The Evening Star's Final Revolution
by Indistinct In The Twilight
Summary: Kendra Sorenson has been kidnapped by the once dead Demon Prince, Navarog. The Society of the Evening Star is devising a scheme, and Kendra seems to be the crux of their plans. A new, powerful unnamed terror is calling the shots. Will Navarog succeed in submitting Kendra to his will? Can Kendra appeal to his better side? Is there any of her Gavin Rose in Navarog's dark heart?
1. Chapter 1: Kidnapped

**This is my first fanfic. I've never really been into the whole fanfic thing, but in my summer boredom I've started browsing the different stories here. I created the account at the outset so I could just follow a few people, not intending to write anything of my own. However, then I discovered that there were few proper Gavin Rose (as Navarog) and Kendra Sorenson stories. Personally, I love Fablehaven just the way it is and wouldn't change anything about the series – that said, I've always wondered **_**what if?**_** in regard to Gavin and Kendra. I'll admit, I've always had a secret wish of a darker fantasy between the two. Also, I'd like to purge myself of the vague ideas I had of life post-Fablehaven series. I'm not sure how this is going to turn out. So, keeping in mind that I'm flying by the seat of my pants, here goes… **

**Disclaimer - I own nothing of Fablehaven! Brandon Mull owns it all.**

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Kendra Sorenson was not typically one to take long walks in the forest by herself, so she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing under the wooded canopy of the Fablehaven forest on the day in question. It was quite out of character for her to be off alone in the woods. Especially in a forest brimming with magical creatures of all varieties, many of whom would do her harm if given the option. Her adventures all those years ago had only served to lessen her sense of adventure (unlike her brother). Life after a close-call apocalypse had been predictably anticlimactic – perhaps even more so than Kendra had anticipated. Things on the Fablehaven preserve, as well as on the other preserves, had been as peaceful as they had been in a century. Her interaction with the mythical creatures of the world since then had been virtually limited to the fairies, Raxtus, and Bracken.

Kendra had seen less of the unicorn than she had initially hoped, but their friendship was progressing along. Bracken kept Kendra at arm's length, to her slight annoyance. They were intimate friends, but never had anything physical happened between them beyond the occasional, friend-zone hug. Kendra had finished out high school, and had started college in Connecticut at a community college not too far from the preserve, with hopes that Bracken would begin to view her as the adult she was becoming; yet, he still made no move. Kendra hadn't pushed initially. She was hesitant to commence with her next bout of life-altering excitement.

Her life had resumed a somewhat-mundane routine only after a few months with the Zzyx escapade. Kendra returned to habitual absorption with her studies, and regular vacations at the preserve with Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson and Grandma and Grandpa Larsen. Seth, once he had finished high school, had become a famous adventurer striving to surpass his ancestor Patton Burgess by doing any and every outlandish and dangerous thing he could think of. He was often accompanied by Vanessa and Warren, and many other members of the Knights of Dawn. The Knights had originally had their hands full helping restore balance in the magical community, but now many of them (who did not go off gallivanting with Seth, Shadow Charmer extraordinaire) were beginning to retire. There was less need for the organization, now that the Society was no longer running amuck. Without the Sphinx as their leader, they'd virtually run themselves into the ground.

Both the Society of the Evening Star, and the man responsible for causing so much pain in Kendra's life, both no longer existed. The Society may still have had some pulse of life underground, but at the time Kendra couldn't imagine them as much of a threat. The Sphinx's fate had at last been decided, but that was another story…

The process for determining Eternals was still coming along. The Sphinx was thankfully no longer a candidate. On the other hand, Kendra was. Becoming an Eternal would make it possible for Bracken and Kendra to be together. Perhaps that was what Bracken was waiting for?

She'd eagerly looked forward to seeing Bracken upon her arrival to Fablehaven, at the beginning of the summer, but Grandpa Sorenson had extinguished her excitement the instant she'd mentioned the unicorn by hesitantly informing her that Bracken was off with Seth on a very secret mission in Venezuela, alongside the newlyweds, Warren and Vanessa. Grandpa Sorenson had been excessively vague in regard to the details.

So Kendra was at Fablehaven with only her grandparents, Dale, Mendigo, and Hugo to keep her company. Not exactly the most exciting company. And Kendra was experiencing something she hadn't in quite some time – ever really – restlessness. Kendra was up before Dale, and was busy around the preserve till late in the evening. Her thoughts were often on Bracken and her brother, what they could be doing, and if they were safe. She became a tidge anti-social, for reasons she couldn't fathom. She felt like she was waiting for something big to happen. Kendra found it somewhat depressing to sit around and hold your breath for seemingly no reason.

Kendra was musing what exactly she might be waiting for when a familiar red-headed, awkward satyr stumbled across her path. Literally stumbled, tripping over his own hooves. Kendra smiled, despite herself.

"Hello, Verl."

"Kendra! What a surprise! Imagine, seeing you here." He smiled nervously. "Looking as lovely as ever." He added a little wistfully.

Kendra tried not to roll her eyes. "Verl, were you stalking me?" She crossed her arms in an exaggerated motion.

His eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Never!" The indignant reply came out as a bit of a squeak. Kendra bit her lip. She'd always pitied Verl, even though Seth taunted her mercilessly for the satyr's harmless, if misplaced, adoration.

"I was walking in the woods, leisurely observing the beauty of yo- the day." He amended hastily, "When I heard a rather frightening growl, as though it were right in my ear – right in the middle of the path, in the middle of the afternoon! And I ran away…" He trailed off and blushed. "I mean I had thought maybe I'd seen you earlier and I came to make sure you were alright."

Kendra frowned. "Did you see anything Verl?"

Verl shook his head. "Nothing at all."

A monster on the loose was not what Fablehaven needed right then. Of course, if Verl didn't see anything it may have been an enchantment or a prank intended to spook him. Nevertheless, there was something in the wild look in Verl's eyes that Kendra found unsettling. Obviously, he didn't think it was a joke.

"I'm going to speak to Grandpa Sorenson about this Verl. Keep me posted if you hear anything else."

"Kendra…" Verl began but Kendra was already hurrying along the path back to the house, and didn't hear the rest of what he was going to say.

Kendra found Grandpa Sorenson reviewing some papers in his office.

He looked up as she came in. "Kendra! Is everything alright?" His bushy gray brow furred as she walked in.

"Well," Kendra said rather breathlessly, "I don't know." She sat down and relayed her conversation in the woods with Verl, including her speculations.

When she was finished Grandpa Sorenson looked at her thoughtfully. "I agree that it could have been a prank. In fact, it was most likely a prank pulled by Doren and Newel. But I can see that you are genuinely concerned. Dale and I will investigate it tomorrow, if only to admonish the other two." He nodded at the sinking sun, whose dull rosy glare was steadily filling up the room.

Kendra pursed her lips. She was filled with a sense of urgency. Her instincts screamed _no, investigate now!_ Still, she nodded her consent. She stood to leave, when her Grandfather said, "Oh Kendra, I know it's late, but Ruth forgot to pick up her prescription again. I hate to ask you to do it, but you know your Grandma and Grandpa Larsen won't be back until Friday; Ruth is cooking; I'm busy with all of this," Here he gestured to his work," And Dale is still rounding up a few things around the preserve. Would you mind going for her?"

The drug store was approximately forty-five minutes away. Kendra did mind, but she didn't say so. What she said was, "Of course I'll go get it Grandpa. I'll leave right now."

"That's a good girl. Thank you Kendra." And with that he bowed his head and resumed studying the papers on his desk.

With an inward sigh, Kendra went outside with a shout to her grandmother in the kitchen where she was headed, hopped into her old pick-up truck she'd received as a graduation present from her parents, and backed up. Swerving, she began down the endless driveway. Driving gave her time to clear her head. Grandpa was right. It was probably nothing.

She was not even ten feet from where the road intersected with it when a dark shadow flashed in front of her headlights hitting her hood with a thud.

Kendra skidded to a halt. With a sickening feeling, Kendra leapt out of the truck to inspect the damage. She looked around the fading twilight. No sign whatever she'd hit. She looked at her truck and groaned. The dent was massive.

"Today is not my day." She decisively said aloud.

"I don't know Kendra." A voice speculated from off to the side. A male voice. "We've still got a few minutes left of daylight, and I strongly suspect your day is just about to get much better." The voice sounded sardonically cheerful. Kendra knew that voice. It belonged to someone who had died nearly half-a-decade ago.

Slowly, Kendra turned around. A smug grin, dark hair, and leering eyes met her gaze. He was older, still (Kendra noted with a wince) handsome, and reeked of potent sinister magic. Enough magic to make her realize she wasn't hallucinating. His presence seemed even more dominating than when she'd last known him – at least the him she'd know briefly before he'd been eaten by her friend Raxtus, the fairy dragon.

"Navarog." She found her voice.

He grinned wolfishly. "Miss your Demon Prince, Kendra?" He taunted.

What was he talking about? Bafflement and the sheer impossibility of the situation was causing her mind to reel, and to make her feel more than a little nauseous. "You are not my Demon Prince." She heard herself whispering hoarsely. She felt as though she were watching the scene take place from a million miles away. Because it was a dream. Kendra had to be dreaming.

"Oh, but you see, I am." He shrugged as if to say "what can you do?"

Recovering some of her wits, she felt a harsh retort on the tip of her tongue but Navarog saw the focus returning to her eyes, and was quicker than she. He leapt on her with astounding agility, clamped his hand around her mouth, and pressed his other hand into her neck. Panicked, she struggled but found her view quickly becoming tinged with darkness.

She was faintly aware of the boy she'd once known as Gavin Rose saying softly in her ear, "Come with me Kendra. Let your Demon Prince make your day all better."

And Kendra knew no more except the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2: Forbidden Dragon Sanctuary

**DIGRESSION/RANT - I keep seeing Navarog/Gavin being turned into a simpering wimp, who comes crawling back begging for forgiveness and/or for love. If that's your thing, more power to you, but if any of you harbor any illusions about that being the case here allow me to clarify - DEMON PRINCES DO NOT TURN INTO PANSIES, I DON'T CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO THEM. That doesn't mean he doesn't have the capacity for goodness in him or the ability to love but for Pete's sake he's not a sparkly vampire. Consider – the Sphinx had the guy locked up for centuries in the quiet box. So he's so evil that the Sphinx thought him a threat AND if his crazy wasn't exponentially increased by the fact that he spent hundreds of years with no contact to the outside world, I'm a monkey's uncle. He's probably got friggin borderline personality disorder! If you sense the Gavin in this story progressing towards pansie-fication, please alert me immediately and I will remedy the situation.**

**Now that I've got that off my chest….**

**Disclaimer – I do not own any aspect of the fantastic Fablehaven world. Brandon Mull is the owner to whom I express much gratitude for fostering a healthy belief in magic in myself and many others.**

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Kendra tossed uncomfortably in her sleep. Her room felt unusually chilly for a summer night. She knew she should wake up but she'd been having a lovely dream about Bracken. He had been holding her hand and singing sweetly to her. She couldn't understand the words, but she knew that they didn't match up with the song. The tune was indulgently maudlin. The words were obscure, yet insistent.

Lucidly Kendra reached up to touch a smiling Bracken's face, but he caught her hand. Kendra watched his hazy expression flicker. Bracken's demeanor changed instantly. He looked as though he was… desperate. A crinkle creased his smooth brow. Purple crescents under his eyes brought out the concern he was now looking at her with. He'd stopped singing. Kendra frowned. What was wrong with him?

"Kendra, where…" Bracken began, but didn't finish. A jolt ran through Kendra's body. The ground under them began to tremor. Kendra reeled back. Bracken reached out to catch her, but missed. And then Kendra was falling. The sound of roaring wind engulfed her. A low guttural hum buzzed in her ears.

Kendra opened her eyes. She saw rolling white plains beneath her feet. Her _dangling_ feet. She screamed. Her hands should have flow up from her sides. However, her arms, she discovered were immovable. She looked down towards her stomach. Huge onyx colored talons encased her securely. A deep rumble similar to a laugh drew her gaze upward. Immense yellow slanted eyes met hers.

Kendra couldn't move. She couldn't speak. Navarog was using his dragon fear to incapacitate her.

The glowing yellow orbs lowered till they were directly in front of her. Kendra willed herself to shut her eyes. If only Seth were there. Together he and she made a dragon tamer. Without him there was nothing she could do to impede Navarog's control of her.

Kendra felt Navarog's warm breath move around her, increasing her anxiety level. He smelled like he hadn't brushed his teeth since she last saw him. Before he'd been eaten by Raxtus. Kendra remembered she still hadn't figured out how his being alive was even possible. If she'd harbored any doubts before, it would be impossible to do so now. The dragon before her was not going to be explained away.

Almost without thinking, Kendra blinked. Her hypersensitivity called it to her attention. Taking advantage of the opportunity she forced her eyelids to stay shut with all of her might. To her relief, they stayed closed.

Success! Kendra would have whooped in triumph if she could. But victory was short lived. She felt scales brushing against her face, sending chills down her spine. By some miracle, her eyelids stayed shut.

Quite suddenly she was aware that there was no longer the sound of beating wings. The claws around her began to feel softer (though the tightness of the grip remained the same).

"Kendra." To her surprise, she heard Navarog's human voice. "Open your eyes."

Kendra obeyed without thinking. Navarog held her tightly, as they were speeding towards the ground, the wind whistling around them. Kendra made a noise like a squeak and wrapped her arms around a smirking Navarog.

Panic set in with immediate comprehension. "Are you crazy?! We're going to die now." Kendra wailed over the wind. Her hair lashed wildly about her face.

Navarog regarded her coolly. "You wouldn't look at me." He spoke normally, which was the equivalent of whispering in the situation. Kendra had excellent hearing though, a byproduct of her condition.

"So you decided to commit suicide?!" She screamed.

"I don't take rejection well. Besides, today is as good a day to die as any. I've always had a fascination with death… Ever since, you know, I died." He deadpanned.

She didn't care for his humor. Kendra looked frantically from left to right. "Navarog! We're getting closer to the ground!"

He rolled his dark eyes. "I don't recall you being this melodramatic Kendra. But if you _insist_ I save you I will – on two conditions."

Kendra just stared at him, painfully aware of the rapidly approaching surface. "One," he shouted now, presumably to remove any doubt of her hearing him, "You will call me Gavin and _not_ Navarog. Two - you will _not_ resist my will like that again." Kendra felt his grip tighten around her. He leaned in so their foreheads were touching. His demeanor became grim and menacing. "Or you may find death to be a more generous offer."

Kendra didn't even consider the details. The only thought she had was an image of a red water balloon, which Seth dropped from the upstairs window intended for Kendra's head, hitting the pavement and exploding next to her. Whatever the crazed-zombie-dragon-psychopath wanted her to say, she would say if it meant saving her from looking like that balloon. "Whatever! Okay! Just save us!"

Navarog - Gavin – simply laughed. He made no move to transform. Kendra looked into his cold eyes. He isn't going to save us, Kendra realized in dismay. He exploit her desperation. Kendra closed her eyes again so she his mocking gaze wasn't the last thing she would see in her life.

Then she felt Gavin's chest expanding against her, growing warmer, more… scaly. The whistling died down and the hum of beating wings resumed. Kendra felt her body relax marginally, releasing some of its tension. He had saved them. Kendra opened her eyes to see the ground barely fifty feet down. Kendra's heart skipped a beat at the sight of how close she had been to dying.

Kendra tried to clear her head. Observe and take note of everything, she admonished herself. You never know what may help you escape later (advice she'd received from Warren).

Further inspection of her surroundings suggested to her that Navarog/Gavin had taken her to rainforest. An expansive tree canopy underneath her, massive, majestic plateaus to her left, gray, stormy skies to her right – all stunning. What was ahead of her though is what really took Kendra's breath away.

A splendid torrent of white-silver water cascaded down a sheer drop-off of varying shades of paint-splotch-reminiscent orange and brown rock at the top, blushing hues of violet and burgundy toward the bottom. The falls were outlined by both thick and thin patches of lush green trees on the plateau at the crest and the valley beneath. The cloud bank allowed for few breaks for which wavering rays of sunlight could add a more camouflaged appearance to the drop-off, and mysterious shimmering effect to the falls. From what Kendra could tell Navarog was making a beeline for the falls.

In a matter of minutes they were at the falls, and Kendra could hear the deafening roar of waves crashing below. If she could've covered her ears, she would have.

Navarog increased his speed. Kendra blanched. They would splatter on the side of the cliff! He'd tricked her! He was still going to kill them.

This time around though Kendra had a bit more of time to think. She mourned for the good-bye's she'd never get to say to her friends and family. She knew they'd all be worried sick about her. She hated that she'd never be able to give them any peace. And then there was Bracken. What would have been? She would never know. Surely, he'd find someone else. Small comfort that was.

Kendra squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact. The water hit her like several streams of icy liquid being squeezed from a giant Nerf gun. The sensation was over before Kendra's body could appropriately react. Now they would slam into the rock wall. She tensed, waiting.

She felt Navarog/Gavin's grip loosen around her. Her eyes flew open. She didn't have time to grab ahold before he dropped her. Instead of falling into oblivion Kendra felt herself plop roughly onto a hard surface.

Kendra sat up with a moan. She was in a cave. Faint orange torchlight lit the rock floor and cavern walls.

"We're not dead." She said aloud, mostly to herself.

"No. If you'd have kept your eyes open and your head about you, you would have seen through the distractor spells." Gavin stood across the way, arms crossed, staring at her scornfully. "Really Kendra, you're going to have to get it together if you want to survive here."

Kendra didn't respond. She couldn't put her thoughts together properly, and she sure as heck didn't want to give the jerk the satisfaction of saying the wrong thing. Subsequently, for a while they both said nothing, and sat watching each other guardedly.

At length he spoke again, "Well here we are. Welcome to your new home Kendra Sorenson - my humble abode - the Forbidden Dragon Sanctuary."


	3. Chapter 3: Certain Death Awaits

**Muchas gracias to all those who posted their reviews. Also I'd like to send a shout out thanks to the creators of the Fablehaven wiki. I've had to refresh my memory on so many things! They saved me a lot of time.**

**Disclaimer – I do not own Fablehaven, Kendra, Gavin, etc. Brandon Mull owns all of the aforementioned.**

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Kendra squinted her eyes up at the boy before her. He didn't appear to be joking – of course, Gavin Rose knew all about how to feign appearances.

Kendra cut her gaze from him to look around her. The cavern was spacious, she noted. Even in the dim light she had no trouble seeing everything. They were on a wide path of rocky, sandy stone. Toward the entrance, diffused daylight streamed through the back of the falls, illuminating a drop-off that plunged into the bowels of the cave.

It was then that Kendra noted the path was perhaps only thirty feet wide. No more torchlight was available down the line that she could tell. All Kendra could see was the path stretching farther back in the cave. She was barely able to make out the roof of the cave, which was littered with purple, blue, and black looming stalactites.

Nothing screamed "beware, evil dragons ahead" to her. No sign of any living creatures besides herself and Gavin. How could a bunch of dragons even live in a place like this? Wouldn't dragons want open spaces to fly around in?

Mulling over these musings, Kendra turned to look at the wall she had her back to.

Her jaw dropped. Countless chalk words, some illegible, some Kendra could make out (which meant they could be anything from Silvian to English) stretched in a crude column. Kendra spent a few minutes scanning the wall. One particular sentence, scrawled in a more elegant hand than those surrounding it, caught Kendra's attention. She could almost hear the author speaking the ominous condemnation as she read it.

_Proceed forward with the knowledge that certain death awaits you._

_Make peace with your god._

_The Forbidden Dragon Sanctuary has laid claim to your soul._

Sounds like a place Seth would like to vacation, Kendra thought half-heartedly. The words rattled her, but she was determined to remain levelheaded. So Gavin wasn't lying. That's a first, she thought.

"Forbidden Dragon Sanctuary. Like one of the three off-limits to humans?" Kendra fought to keep her teeth from chattering as she spoke. The draft from inside the cavern was causing her to shiver under her soaked clothes. Kendra recalled that the forbidden sanctuaries were Wyrmroost, Silvermoor, and Frosted Peaks. She knew she wasn't at Wyrmroost. Nothing about her surroundings suggested to her that she was in the Rockies or the Himalayas, where the other two resided.

Gavin turned the air with his hand, in a theatrical gesture. "No, Kendra. This is _the _Forbidden Dragon Sanctuary. The worst of them all, I might add. You know how the locations of the magical preserves like Fablehaven are only known to a select few? Well, this 'sanctuary'," he put air quotes around the word sanctuary. "is not known to exist by any but the dragons and a handful of others. To many dragons even, it is a legend, a myth told to keep over zealous hatchlings in their place."

Kendra was about to ask why, when he continued on. "This dwelling was intended not to be a sanctuary, but a prison. The traitorous wretches like your wizard friend who put us here made sure of that." Gavin spat.

That would explain underground placement. Kendra didn't miss the "us" part. Maybe this place had been where Gavin had stayed before his time in the Quiet Box.

Gavin's face twisted into a cruel smile. "Unbeknownst to him and his ilk, there is no caretaker left here. This place experienced a… hmm… how to do I put this?... _Quiet_ rebellion two years ago. I should also mention that the dragons kept here are considered the most devious and insidious of their kind – demon consorters mostly, those vehemently disloyal to Celebrant, conspirers against the Fairy Queen, etc. Unfortunately, strong enchantments prevent most of us from leaving." His eye brows twitched up.

Kendra didn't miss a beat. "Let me guess – except for you. I'll bet you lead the rebellion against the caretaker too."

Kendra hadn't known any of the caretakers of the dragon sanctuaries except for Agad, the wizard who helped her and her family prevent the demon apocalypse, and she was fond of him. Despite the fact that he was now the caretaker of a preserve called Living Mirage, she couldn't help picturing him stuck in his old fortress, besieged by hundreds of dragons. The poor caretaker probably never had a chance. Grandpa Sorenson had once told Kendra that dragon sanctuaries made Fablehaven seem like a petting zoo.

"Ah," Gavin's face darkened, "that's where you're wrong. I have only been back for a few months now. He who led the rebellion is my Master. The reigning power here is chaos, though he goes by another name." Gavin walked over to Kendra. Kendra instinctively scooted away from him up against the wall. Gavin noticed. He hesitated only briefly before coming to bend down on his knees directly before her.

"Now Kendra you must listen to me very carefully. The moment you crossed the threshold into this place you relinquished your right to live." Kendra's breath hitched in her throat. "I am the only thing that stands between you and a hoard of dragons. Stray from me at your own peril."

Kendra put her head in her hands. It took all she had not to cry. Exhaustion was decreasing her emotional stability. "Why did you bring me here?" She demanded, looking up.

"Because," Gavin reached out as if to touch her. Kendra cringed away, but this time he didn't hesitate. Gently he tucked her damp hair behind her ear. To an observer the gesture might have appeared tenderly affectionate. Kendra knew it was another way of exerting his dominance to encroach upon her personal space so flippantly.

"I missed your company." His eyes searched hers, gauging her reaction.

She wasn't buying it. "Don't lie to me Gavin. You've already made me think I was going to die twice today. Now you've practically told me it's only a matter of when. The least you can do is be honest with me. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"It's always a matter of when." Gavin turned his face away from her. "I did not lie to you when I said I genuinely liked you Kendra. Your fierce loyalty and noble innocence are hard pressed not to admire."

A pause. "And yet, you are correct. While I have missed you, I'm afraid that's not why you're here. The Society asked me to bring you here."

"Initially I refused. I had been planning on ravaging Fablehaven and extracting my revenge by devouring your family and friends - starting with that half-wit fairydragon who had the nerve to eat me. I might have spared you and your brother if you had sworn allegiance to me, or I might not have depending on how generous I was feeling."

He said all this nonchalantly, much to Kendra's chagrin. "Without the Sphinx as their leader the Society was nothing to me. I had no fear of refusing them - until they sought out my Master."

Another lengthy pause. And he had accused her of being melodramatic.

"They asked him to take over as their new leader. They had plans, they said. The dream behind the idea was drew my Master in. He saw the potential. He perfected their plan.…"

Oh no. Kendra felt it coming. She had to let Gavin finish. Franticly she fought to suppress it. The urge was irrepressible.

"Achoo!" She sneezed. Gavin stopped talking. Kendra cursed herself. He had been about to reveal something important.

"We need to move on." The moment was gone. Gavin stood. Leaning over her, he pulled at the torch ever so slightly. The wall shook a few feet away, stirring the sand into the air. A hole the size of a large doorway rippled into existence. Kendra could see the beginnings of a stone staircase at the base of the hole.

"Come, Kendra. Don't struggle."

"What…?" Before she could ask what he meant, Gavin scooped her up in his arms.

Maybe it was the fatigue, but Kendra didn't struggle. Instead she beheld Gavin's arms. Stupid hormones. In her defense it was the first time she'd ever been held by a guy like that!

His skin was deeply tanned. His arms were lean but toned; she could see the muscles at work under the skin. He was scarred in various places. Some cuts were fresh, still discolored. Others blended into his skin like seams on a doll.

She looked up to see him smirking. He'd caught her in the act. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

"Before we go there's one more thing I want you to see." He said holding her gaze. His eyes were so dark brown they were almost black.

Not awaiting her consent, he turned on his heels toward the edge of the path. Kendra threw her arms around his neck.

"What are you doing?" A cough muffled her question.

"I do not want you here without understanding at least some of what you're up against. Knowing you, you'll probably try to escape tonight if this is all I let you see of the place." He snorted. "And I don't particularly feel like chasing you around right now, so look."

Gavin's toes touched the ledge. Kendra tightened her grip around his neck. If her jaw could have hung any lower it would have been unhinged.

Instead of dim nothingness Kendra saw a storm of colors. Like an aurora borealis caught in a hurricane at sea. Lightning bolts of rainbow hues shot through the steaming mere. It was exquisite, enchanting, otherworldly. Instead of fear, it struck awe in the beholder.

An iron-gray spiked, broad, vividly green spine crested out of the mists, causing Kendra to catch her breath. The spine obviously belonged to a large serpentine dragon. The spine moved downward like the creature was diving deeper into the storm below before disappearing. A few seconds later, while Kendra was still reeling from the former, a massive bulk of scarlet colored scales filled the breadth of the space below, turning the mist around it a sulfurous yellow. The monstrous thing remained only briefly, and then slowly slipped out visibility. A black tail flickered straight up after it, crackling with coils of electricity. Moaning roars mixed with brassy growls resounded off of the cavern walls, portentous of malevolence.

On a fateful cue, a set of crooked horns rose out of the tempestuous brew, followed by flat, leathery mien with contorted features and slanted red eyes that affixed Kendra with a black look. The dragon opened its mouth to reveal two tusk-like fangs, one of which had a jagged break. A throaty hiss emitted from the orifice. In response, a great scaly, discolored hood, extending the length of its sides, flew open.

Kendra heard – well she more so felt, than she'd heard it – a threatening, baleful rumble come from Gavin's chest. The rumble was that of a beast, not of a boy. The creature's flaps retracted, but its head remained above the mists, it's eyes no longer watching Kendra. The cobra dragon eyed Gavin as if trying to decide if he were worth it (whatever it was). Gavin turned away, breaking the spell the cobra dragon had on Kendra, and walked briskly toward the opening in the wall. Keeping the pace, he descended the stairs, leaving, Kendra hoped, the worst behind them.


	4. Chapter 4: The Cabin

**Sitting late at night typing away, writing in various notebooks, chewing away at my pencils and pens, I hear a disembodied voice at my side say, with decided and deliberate enunciation, "You aren't going to be able to make this work. You can't tie all of this together." I don't respond. There is a lengthy, Gavin style pause. The voice tries again, with a little more insistency incorporated into the statement. Got to give it props for persistence. "Woman, you are playing with forces beyond your kin." **

**I stop working. Looking at the mess on my desk - all the eraser shavings, the spilled white out – and listening to the whirr of the fan at the back of my computer, protesting its prolonged use, it is a mite bit overwhelming. But then looking at all the encouraging reviews…**

"**Yea well, your Ken can kiss my Barbie." Then, taking a moment to reposition myself, I begin again.**

**Indeed. I went there. Comment if you get the reference. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the magical Fablehaven world, nor any of the inhabitants thereof. Brandon Mull owns all. **

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The simple answer was that Gavin wasn't alive, and neither was Kendra . She'd died somehow in a car accident. Gavin had come in place of the Grim Reaper. Now they were in Hell, or Tartarus, or some equivalent thereof. Kendra had tried to be a good girl, but she supposed somewhere along the line she'd really ticked somebody up there off. Her eternal punishment likened to Tantalus in his pool always thirsty never drinking, or the Danaïdes sisters always fetching the water but failing to retain any in their buckets. Gavin and Kendra would forever climb the stairs, but never reach the end.

Okay, maybe she was being a _little_ melodramatic.

Kendra had tried counting the steps initially. If she'd had any hopes of escaping she would have to be anal with the planning, otherwise Gavin would stop her for sure. But Kendra had lost count sometime after five hundred through drifting into sleep in Gavin's arms. A few minutes later she reawaked, cursing herself for her ineptitude.

Shortly thereafter, she had reached the conclusion about them being in Hell. Logically, it was the only answer that made any sense.

She attempted to engage Gavin in conversation, but he wouldn't even look at her. Kendra was too fatigued to pester him. Almost dying once was rough day, but _twice_ was leaving Kendra feeling emotionally drained. Physically, she hadn't felt this worn out since she'd put a sword through Gorgrog.

Was it her imagination or was Gavin slowing down? He'd been so hardy so far, never ceasing to linger, never tiring. Kendra looked up at his face. His eyes were roving the wall on their right.

Without warning he stopped. Had they reached the bottom? No. Kendra could still see the endless stair continuing past them.

Gavin was still looking at the wall. Kendra followed his gaze. An opening similar to the one they'd come through at the bottom of the stairs led into a room with a giant… tree?

Gavin strode into the cave. Kendra eyes widened. The roof of the cave was unseen. Dozens of spindly, ivory branches formed a sort of half cage over what appeared to be a ginormous bird's nest of the same kind of wood. Above, the branches gradually became browner in color and intertwined to form a vast tree trunk that stretched up into the oblivion. The room felt drafty, so Kendra could only assume that the tree reached the outside world. The dying embers of hope stirred in her chest.

"You'd never make it to the top." She heard Gavin say. His clairvoyance went beyond mildly irritating. "The tree extends over a thousand feet upward to the tip of the plateau. To fall would eradicate you. Fair warning." He dipped down close to her face, forcing her to look up at him. "You maybe be dumb enough to try it anyway. You're not your brother, but you do share the same genes. Lucky for you, I'm not going to give you the chance to die a horrible and painful death… at least not that way." He winked and pulled back.

"We," Kendra looked around, feeling a little lightheaded, "are not in Hell."

Gavin started. Then he laughed hollowly. "Hell is a pleasanter place than you'd imagine. I spent my time there playing cards with an old southern man who favored Albert Einstein. When I told him I didn't understand why everyone was so against coming to the place, he replied that Heaven had a more favorable climate." His voice was lighter than it had been. There was a curious daring glint in his eye.

She knew he was lying. Kendra had trouble placing why, but a buzz in the back of her mind insisted that she was missing the joke. She was too tired to figure it out.

"I would have thought you would have had a treasure trove for a bed." Kendra observed softly.

Gavin's chest rumbled. "No, I've never been one of those showy dragons. Gold is actually rather uncomfortable. Subtlety and simplicity are more my thing."

Kendra glanced around. There wasn't anything else in the room besides the nest. Where would she sleep? What would she eat? How would she survive in this place?

Maybe I'm not meant to survive, she thought. She had worried that the Society was having Gavin kidnap her to exploit her powers, but now it occurred to her that maybe they just didn't want her on the opposing team.

"What are you going to do with me now?" She asked.

In answer, Gavin took several long strides toward the back of the nest. There, under a small alcove, was a rugged looking, beige steamer trunk.

_He's going to cut you up into little pieces, eat half of you now, and store the rest for later_, Seth's voice rang in her ears. That's how Kendra knew the situation was bad. If her subconscious had assumed the voice of Seth Sorenson, something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Gavin sat Kendra down next to the trunk, a little rougher than was necessary. He opened the lid. A single solitary stair stood out to Kendra.

"It's enchanted like the knapsack." Kendra realized after a moment, sitting up to glance at the content below.

"I've noticed that pointing out the blatantly obvious seems to be a favorite pastime of yours." Gavin said dryly.

Kendra shot him a withering glare. "Just like the knapsack that you trapped Warren in to die."

"Ah, yes." Gavin frowned, "Warren Burgess. I heard he made it out. Pity, that."

Kendra wanted to hurl profane, unladylike insults at him - but imaginary Seth's warning was still fresh in her mind, restraining her from doing so.

"In you go." Gavin nodded toward the trunk.

"What if I say no?" Kendra challenged.

Gavin's eyes narrowed. "Well I guess I could throw you down there." Kendra tensed.

He tapped his lower lip as if considering something. "Or," his eyes slid slyly over to her landing just above her thin waist, traveling over her chest, slowly, deliberately, stopping at her eyes. "you could always stay up here with me."

Kendra flinched. She crawled over to the trunk, avoiding Gavin's bemused expression. There was a rail for her to grab ahold of. The stairs were wrought iron, painted in a creamy color. Carefully she stepped down into the room. The squealing protest of the rusty stairs did not serve to reassure her.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs she looked around. She had been wrong. It was nothing like the knapsack. The room in the knapsack had been a kind of storeroom. This room looked like it belonged in a cheap seaside motel.

The walls were covered in pale blue striped wallpaper, decorated with a few portraits of lighthouses. Illumination came from antiqued copper sea lanterns. A kitchenette featuring a mini-fridge, two cabinets, and a small sink took up the left hand side of the room. The right held a queen-size four-poster with navy blue valences and matching coverings. The floor was white(ish) tile. There was a gigantic wooden wardrobe, with intricate paintings on either side, of a stormy sea with a lone lighthouse on a rocky island in the midst. At the back of the room, Kendra saw an unusually long dressing partition.

She went forward to inspect it. Behind the wooden panels a wooden toilet sat in addition to a very unclean looking clawfoot bathtub. She reached forward and pressed lightly on the handle of the toilet. It flushed. At least the enchanted plumbing was working.

Kendra shivered without warning. The room was quite cold. Vents (far out of reach) blew hard. She guessed that the other end was connected to Antarctica.

Kendra pulled her face back from the partition to see that Gavin was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs.

How had she not heard him coming down the stairs? "There's food and bottled water in the fridge. A change of clothes," Here he gestured toward a small crate at the foot of the bed, "in there. I will be down to check on you after I've rested. Remember what I said when we first arrived in the sanctuary." He wagged a finger at her like a parent scolding a child for an act of mischief.

Kendra nodded once. Gavin turned away from her and placed a hand on the rail. He paused.

"I am being generous in letting you stay here Kendra. Never forget that. You will rue the day you cause me to regret my kindness." With that parting he went back up the stairs, which creaked as they had when Kendra had come down. How…? She shook her head. He was probably just trying to mess with her mind.

She heard the top of the trunk shut with a thud. He was gone. Finally. Kendra walked over to the chest at the end of her bed and opened it. A blue and white gingham night dress was on top of the clothes. Kendra picked it out and set it to the side. She rummaged through the rest of the contents. Two pairs of high-waisted khaki shorts, loaded with pockets, a silky, gaudy floral dress, a set of elastic tan undergarments, one plain blue t-shirt covered in permanent stains, and a red tank-top.

She held up the dress. It was apparently made for a bustier, taller woman than herself. It smelled faintly of citronella. She folded the dress back up, and placed it back into the chest.

Kendra went over to the wardrobe. Inside were men's clothes: various button-up Hawaii shirts, blue-jean overalls, cargo pants, a florescent yellow rain jacket, accompanied with a strong musky scent.

If Kendra had been made to guess, she would have said the outfits belonged to an elderly couple. Based on the décor, whoever they were they had liked the seaside, perhaps they'd even lived on the coast. Why would Gavin have an enchanted trunk that belonged to an elderly lady who lived on the coast?

Kendra explored the "cabin" – that's what she had decided to call it from there on out, because it had a nicer ring to it than "cage" or "prison" – till she had garnered questions aplenty. As she put on the soft gingham nightgown and crawled between the warm sheets she resolved to get her answers after she'd slept some.

As she lay there acutely aware of the aching tiredness in her bones, she thought of her family. They would be worried sick. She hoped the Society hadn't done anything to them. It comforted her that Gavin had kidnapped her off of the preserve. Perhaps the Society hadn't found a way to break past the wards protecting the place yet. She hoped Seth was alright, and Warren and Vanessa… and Bracken. She prayed silently that they would all get home safe and sound, and would work out a way to come and rescue her. She couldn't fathom how she was going to escape out of the sanctuary by herself.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, curving down her jawline, skimming her throat till it rested just above her chest, over her heart. Alone with a murdering psychopath bent on revenge was not how Kendra had wanted to spend her summer. Kendra tried to focus on Bracken's smiling face, but kept finding the image slipping away from her, fading into shadowy memories of her past. Series of images like video streaming kept wavering into and out of consciousness. They were of things she would rather forget. Like what had happened at Lost Mesa.

No matter how hard she tried she couldn't hone in on something light-hearted. Exhaustion eventually overtook her, thrusting her into a swirling pool of nightmares, dropping her unwittingly into many unpleasant memories. Always she was mindful of the feeling of being watched by the smoldering red eyes of the cobra dragon.

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***Reviews work* (cringes at the number of mistakes, thinks about revising and re-uploading… Looks at calendar…. Well there's always time for going back and editing in the future) Apologies for past and future grammar and content errors. I won't give out excuses. It is what it is. **

***Rereads other chapters* At this rate I'm going to have a hundred chapters... I could speed things up a bit and give more away at a time….. Guess I better make them into a hundred really good chapters. ;) Stay tuned**** for more.**


	5. Chapter 5: Attempted Compromise

**The following chapter is an example of why this story is rated T. **

**Warning: Contains scenes with some intense, tantalizing, adult-type, acts of **_**ALMOST**_** touching. There's a strong possibility that there will be other chapters like this to come. If your person is offended by such things, turn back now! **

**For you "Gavendra" fangirls out there, it's not much, but enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer - That's right, I don't own Fablehaven, Brandon Mull does. Sad day. **

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"_Come with me Kendra. Let your demon prince make your day all better." His voice echoed around her. She was sitting in his nest. How had she gotten there? _

"_Kennnnndrrraaa.". he cooed, closer now, but still unseen. She tried to stand but couldn't make her legs work. Everything was hazy. Kendra's instincts told her to get out of there. Desperately she put her hands on her knees pulling hard to make them move._

"_You could stay up here with me." she heard him say again, a whisper behind her. She craned her neck wildly to and fro in vain. _

_She felt his warm, calloused hands on her shoulders. She froze. Lightly he traced his finger a symbol Kendra didn't recognize on her back. _

"_What does it mean?" Her voice sounded metallic and distant to her own ears._

_He clucked softly. She wasn't sure if he disapproved of the meaning or of her asking what it meant. _

_Kendra could feel him, his warmth, his purposefully poised muscles, through the back her shirt. It was maddening. When he spoke again his breath was hot on her ear, "Why is it that the transition from thinking of me as Gavin instead of Navarog, despite your hatred, came so easily for you Kendra? Is it because you once thought fondly of me and wish you could do so again? Have you considered that you may have feelings for me? Even now, as I am." _

_No, Kendra thought. No, no, no. He was wrong. _

_Gavin inhaled and exhaled slowly, allowing the breaths to come like gentle caresses. "The translation is in the common demon tongue is," He made an awful gargling sound, "Demons do not know affection as humans do. Possession is as close as they can get to attachment." She felt him smile. "The translation in your tongue is 'My Own'."_

"_No," Kendra groaned, "this isn't right." Gavin's chest did that rumbly thing again. Kendra discovered that she found the habit _very _attractive._

"_Come, let your Demon Prince make your day all better."_

_*.*.*.*.*_

Kendra's eyes flew open. She pulled herself up, placed her sweaty face in her hands, breathing heavily. A shaky moan escaped her quivering lips.

What a dream.

_Um, more like crazy, erotic nightmare_, Imaginary Seth's voice sounded disgusted. Kendra felt a flush come to her cheeks. She'd never had a dream like that before. She'd heard of them - her friends had talked about them at sleepovers a lot - but she herself had never had the experience. It was exhilarating; it was terrifying.

Gavin didn't think of her like that. Not really. He couldn't. Any coquetry had been a show, merely another way to make the situation unpleasantly uncomfortable for her. Having an ero – a dream like that meant that she was letting him get to her. No more. She would never have a dream like that again.

Kendra lifted her head out of her hands. How long had she been out? No sign of Gavin yet, thankfully.

She looked down at her gown. It was soaked, and she smelled awful. She glanced at the dressing partition. What Kendra needed was a bath. She got out of bed and crossed the room. Halfway, she faltered.

A glance toward the stairs was accompanied with a preoccupation that Gavin might come in while she was indecent. She couldn't very well go up there and tell him to leave her alone. Could she?

What if she did? He'd be furious. Still, she couldn't let him bully her. She had to let him know she wasn't afraid of him at some point. What if he was in dragon form though? He could eat her, or tear her to shreds.

She deliberated briefly. Her final decision was to peek, see if he _was _in dragon form - if he was just forget about the whole thing, and if he wasn't…. She would decide what to do from there.

Ascending the steps gradually, she approached the top. Could it even be opened from this end? Reaching the end of the stairs, Kendra groped in the shadows. Her fingers landed on a pliable material just above her crown. Kendra pushed up against the lid. It didn't budge. She flexed her arms and pushed harder. Nothing.

Kendra huffed in frustration. She punched the lid awkwardly. A blue light blinked into existence. It was a round, crystal button with glowing letters underneath written in blocky script.

**Sairon Mirima**

**PRESS IN CASE LID IS STUCK**

Kendra blinked her eyes. Was it a trick? Maybe Imaginary Seth was influencing her judgment; regardless, she pressed the button lightly.

Clasps were audibly undone. With a pop, the lid opened slightly.

Cautiously, Kendra raised the lid. She put one foot out, then another. She crawled out of alcove, and turned to look at the vast nest. No sign of a dragon yet.

Kendra couldn't reach the lip of the nest. Digging her feet in, pricking herself painfully in several different places, she hoisted herself up. It only took a few seconds for her to reach the top.

Gavin lay about ten feet away, curled in the fetal position, sleeping soundly. Tip-toeing, holding her breathe, she went to him. Upon arriving at his side, she kneeled.

His face was serene, his lips parted slightly. Kendra was struck by how vulnerable he looked. A single bead of sweat glided down his temple. She noticed he was tense. Maybe he was having a nightmare. She had seen Seth have nightmares and it looked like that. Instinctively, she leaned in for a closer look.

Gavin's eyes opened. A quizzical look flashed across his face. Kendra opened and closed her mouth, forgetting what she wanted to say.

Gavin recovered, his countenance becoming condescending once more. "Trying to escape?" He raised an eye-brow at her, pushing himself up, twisting his torso, leaning on one elbow. Kendra speculated that the pose might be considered provocative by some.

Not that _she_ herself found it overtly so. She could just understand where some people might surmise such a thought.

Gavin cocked his head, waiting.

Kendra recovered her wits.

Rolling her eyes, she retorted, "Yes. I woke you up to tell you I was escaping."

He cocked his head to the other side. For an instant, in her mind's eye, Kendra saw an image of Gavin with a long tail, flicking to and fro in a very feline-esk fashion.

"Then what are you doing up here?"

Kendra did her best to sound cool when she replied with, "I came to tell you that I am going to take a bath, and you are going to wait thirty minutes before coming down there."

Gavin snorted. "And if I don't acquiesce to your demands?"

Kendra was about to say she'd strangle him, but one look into his eyes said he knew exactly what she was thinking. She needed to catch him off guard. Kendra considered the best route to take. She wasn't certain about how he would take it, but she had a thought, something he wouldn't expect. There was no time to hesitate, or to try to work through possible consequences.

"Please, Gavin. We were friends once. You said you really liked me. Yes, I'm stuck here, and at your mercy, and all that jazz. If you want to pull me around by my hair yelling 'woman!' like a Neanderthal, I can't stop you." God it hurt to humble herself in front of him. At least he was listening so far.

"If your Master brought you back from the dead, and is as powerful as you claim, the world doesn't stand a chance anyway. Out there," Kendra threw a hand toward the arched doorway. "The Society, your Master, and the rest of the world are laying down the blue-prints for whatever is about to happen. We're not out there though, not yet. Look I'm sure you choose your path a long time ago. You and I will forever be enemies, I understand that. I don't expect you to be nice to me, or to do me any favors." Kendra stopped. Her next words were going to be risky. The thought had been on her mind ever since Gavin had sent them hurtling towards the earth. His bitterness had to be addressed, elsewise any bridge between them would bear the weight of possibly being jeopardized in the future.

"My Dad used to tell me 'misery loves company'. I think you feel miserable Gavin. I think wherever you went when you – well, when Raxtus – you know, ate you." She didn't know how else to put it. She watched for a reaction. His face was an emotionless mask. "You maybe didn't like every part of who you were. Not saying you didn't want to be a friend-consuming, evil dragon/demon prince," she amended hastily, "but, possibly, you were missing a certain amount of satisfaction." Once glance at his clenched fists was signal enough to change direction.

"Nobody's here but us. Couldn't we at least be cordial to each other?" There. She was finished.

Gavin regarded her disinterestedly. "Are you done psychoanalyzing me now, Doctor Sorenson? I want you to know, I have eaten people for less impudence." He sounded vexed, but he didn't look it.

"Eat me then." She crossed her arms.

"I don't eat things that smell like you do right now. You'd probably give me indigestion. Go take a bath, and I'll eat you later." He laid back down, and closed his eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.

Kendra got up and walked away. She thought he was looking at her, but she didn't turn around to see. Climbing back over the nest, she returned to the cabin. She shut the lid of the steamer trunk behind her.

Biting back a triumphant smile, she began to clean out the tub.

*.*.*.*.*

Feeling refreshed Kendra sat on the edge of her bed waiting. She had washed her clothes in the sink with cold water, and hung them over the dressing partition. She was currently wearing the size-to-big-for-her khaki shorts, and the red tank top she'd found in the chest. The tank top was cut with a V-neck that would have been fine on a person with broader shoulders and with more a more ample chest, but on Kendra's small frame it revealed a little more than she was comfortable with. Hopefully it would escape his notice.

"You're look fetching." Came the voice, ever laced with sarcasm.

Kendra grimaced. She guessed her thirty minutes of freedom were up. Now came the hurricane.

She looked up. For the first time Kendra noticed Gavin's clothes. He was wearing a plain, black t-shirt, and faded denim jeans. She couldn't remember if he'd been wearing shoes earlier, but he was definitely barefoot now.

"All freshened up." Kendra said mildly. "Well, as fresh as I can be without any soap. I'm sorry if I don't taste like my usual white tea and ginger body-wash."

"I'm fairly certain I've lost my taste for anything related to fairies." He said. Kendra assumed he was referring to the Incident.

"Well if you aren't going to eat me, why are you here?"

"_I'm_ here to tell you why _you're_ here." Gavin snapped.

"Oh." Kendra suppressed her anticipation. "Okay. Before you do though, I wanted to tell you I've figured it out."

Gavin furred his brow suspiciously. "Figured what out, exactly?"

"Mark Twain. You said you played cards with a guy who looked like Albert Einstein in Hell. The quote is, I believe, 'Go to heaven for the climate, Hell for the company'". Inwardly, Kendra smiled, as something akin to admiration danced in his eyes.

As quickly as it came, so it went. "Well done, Kendra." Gavin looked around the room. "Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, do I have your leave to continue on?"

Kendra was well aware that he wasn't seriously asking her permission; nevertheless, she nodded her consent.

Without further ado, Gavin began. "My Master has designs involving the reopening of the Zzyzx. We know that the Knights are weeks away from giving immortality to certain individuals. A person we have on the inside," Gavin sneered at Kendra's surprised expression, "No Kendra, the Society is not as weak as you supposed. We have obtained a copy of the list of names of those up for an Eternal title." Kendra was glad she was sitting down. This was not good news.

"The Master selected a group of his most capable servants to retrieve each of those named on the list. Kidnapping was an option for the few who might prove useful at a later date, death if they resisted capture. I opted to fetch you and bring you here for a time; till my Master has completed the first few stages of the plan."

"You know, some of the Society members had the gall to question my capabilities after what happened at the other sanctuary." He scowled. "The Master emphasized to them that he had brought me back, fully aware of the situation, and absolutely confident in my ability to do what must be done."

Kendra fancied she heard more hostility than usual in Gavin's tone.

_I get it. _Imaginary Seth piped up. _He's on probation, so he was assigned babysitting duties. Ha! _Imaginary Seth snickered.

"And those who were deemed not useful?" Kendra knew who else was on that list. Many of them were her friends. Anxiety clutched at her heart.

"Do you realize," Gavin continued, pointedly ignoring her question, "how easy it was to capture you?"

"Yes," Kendra admitted begrudgingly, "all you had to do was wait until I left the preserve, unaccompanied."

"I did try to break in at first." He admitted. "But I couldn't get past the protective wards. At one point, I recall becoming phenomenally frustrated, and letting out the most embarrassingly loud roar."

"That was you!" Kendra cried out, before thinking. "But Verl said he'd heard it right in his ear! It couldn't have been you."

"Ventriloquism is one of my many talents." Gavin said dryly. "There is a lot about me you don't know, _Doctor_ Sorenson, and even less you could guess."

"How did you know I was in the woods? How could you have possibly known?"

"I would like to defer to my earlier statement."

"... So you knew I would go to my Grandpa, back to the house, if I was upset. But how would you know that I would have to get Grandma Sorenson's prescription? You would have to be able to see the future. That's beyond you Gavin, with all of your talents." Kendra insisted.

He just stared at her. She wavered. "That's impossible." Kendra thought back to the night. She bit down on the inside of her cheeks How had he known she was leaving the preserve? Surely there another explanation.

Gavin took her silence as acceptance of the implications.

Grinning, he said, "I rest my case."

_He's bluffing. Come on Kendra, it's so obvious._ Imaginary Seth was practically shouting at Kendra.

She smiled broadly up at him. "No. Not you. Your Master."

Gavin frowned. She'd ruined his game. "Ah, you are less gullible than I though. Yes, foresight is a gift my Master possess."

"And necromancy." Kendra guessed. Gavin's face paled. She'd struck a chord.

"What was it like being dead, Gavin?" Kendra asked softly, holding his gaze.

Gavin bristled. "Why don't you ask you Grandparents - the Larsens?"

"NO!" Kendra shouted, flying to her feet.

"Yes." Gavin nodded. "When was the last time you saw them alive Kendra? I hope you can remember the day clearly, because that's the last time you will ever see them. Did you really think the Society would so easily forget the slight done to them?"

He relaxed his pose. "By the by, the rest of your friends have already been, or are close to being assassinated as well."

Kendra fought back the urge to cry. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Does it hurt Kendra? Picturing all those you know on the list, those you hold very dear to your heart, lifeless?" Gavin walked over to her, his countenance leering.

"You want me to worry about them." Kendra gasped in realization. The villain."This is pay back for earlier!"

He chuckled enigmatically. "I told you would rue the day you made me regret my goodwill toward you. Silly girl, I don't compromise." Gavin suddenly swooped down, forcing Kendra back onto the bed. His arms trapped her on either side. He craned in, his hot breath on her cheek. A wave of deja vu hit Kendra. His lips brushed her cheek, moving scarcely, smoothly uttering two words that set Kendra atremble to the core: "I conquer."


	6. Chapter 6: A Meeting of the Minds

**I learned recently (or re-learned, if you will) more about the dragon sanctuaries. For those of you who have previously read the other chapters prior to the publishing of this chapter, just a head's up, I tweaked the third chapter for the info I found. Don't get too excited - the changes are minimal, a few words here and there. **

**Now time to put things in perspective.**

**Disclaimer: Brandon Mull owns Fablehaven. I do not. Coincidentally, I also don't own Staples, or their addictive catch phrase.**

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"Well that was easy!" said Seth Sorenson as he forcefully slammed a palm against an invisible button.

Vanessa was last, just behind him, pulling herself up over the edge of the cliff. She shot him an icy glare.

"Yeesh." Seth grimaced. "If looks could kill. Warren, I'm pretty sure your better half just mentally pushed me over the ledge." He said very matter-o-factly.

Warren was off to his other side, grinning broadly, but with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Seth liked that Warren and Vanessa often opted to accompany him (even though he knew it was at the request of his grandparents). Still, neither one were as young as he and Bracken. If Bracken counted as young, anyway.

Warren straightened up, and walked over to Vanessa. Smoothly, he wrapped an arm around her waist. The move brought a light to the scowling Vanessa's eyes. Seth wished he had some of that guy's game.

"I suppose I should punish her for her behavior?" Warren cut his eyes at Vanessa, before turning around to face her entirely.

Seth had learned to watch for the warning signs. He walked away from the pair (who were no longer paying him any attention) to Bracken who pensively stood watching from the ledge out into the nightfall.

Bracken did not acknowledge Seth's approach. He seemed to be looking for something.

Seth glanced out at the lavender tinted skies. "Do you see anything?"

Seth waited. Bracken still didn't even look at him. Seth noticed the bags under his eyes. Bracken wasn't looking so hot.

When Bracken didn't answer after some time, Seth tried again. "Look Bracken, I know you didn't really want to come with us because you've got work to do and all, but this mission is important. All the rumors, the tape with somebody copying the list in the office, point to the Evening Star."

Bracken had at one point stated that the evidence against the Society was either coincidental or came from untrustworthy sources, therefore the mission would be pointless. Nevertheless, he had conceded to come along with the others, to investigate.

"I know you and your mom doubt the accusations, and maybe you are right. Maybe it was one of the wizards who were supposed to get the copy anyway – who knows since we can't speak with them until they're finished preparing the magic for the making of the Eternals. But whoever it was made sure that their face wasn't seen by any of the cameras. What's worse is they got past the whisper hounds." Seth huffed. He was agitated now. He had been ever since the emergency meeting the captain (aka Grandpa Sorenson) had called.

Someone had gotten past the whisper hounds, which lead them to believe that it was an inside job. Espionage and treachery were the trademarks of the Society. The Knights had thought they had removed all of the traitors, thanks to the help of the ex-turncoat Vanessa. Vanessa promised on her love for Warren that she knew of no other defectors in the Knights.

They had guessed the Society would want to stop the making of the Eternals. It fit their m-o. Seth hadn't thought they'd actually try anything though. Not since the Sphinx had bit the dust. A move so bold and so well executed as that, Stan had admitted was unnerving enough to call the secret meeting involving only the Burgesses, Bracken, the Larsen's, and the Sorensons. Well, the Sorensons minus Kendra.

Grandpa Sorenson had chosen not to distract Kendra from her studies. Seth, in a weak moment of sibling defensiveness, had argued that Kendra would want to know. Also, he didn't say anything to suggest it, but he couldn't believe that his Grandpa would let Vanessa Santoro-Burgess, with her dubious past, come to a secret meeting, but not Kendra Sorenson, his sister _and_ the captain's granddaughter.

Bracken had firmly sided with the captain, and Seth couldn't take the both of them. Seth knew that Kendra was stressed because she thought Bracken didn't like her like she liked him – not that Seth truly cared about his sister's love life, but he thought she had to be crazier that he had suspected not to see how much the guy was into her.

Seth gave Bracken a measuring look. Nothing. Seth decided to try a different tactic.

"Sometimes I like to wear my underwear on my head, and sing tribal songs to the lord of juvenile delinquents while dancing around a bonfire with the satyrs."

Bracken didn't even blink.

"Fine. Be like that." Seth mumbled under his breath.

Bracken stirred. Blinking away haze that had shrouded his eyes, he faced Seth.

"Really?" Seth complained.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Seth folded his arms, explaining, "I was asking if you were alright. You were zoned out."

Bracken shook his silver tresses. "I was daydreaming. It was like… I thought I saw…" Bracken wrung his hands in front of his chest.

Something was really upsetting the guy. Seth switched modes, putting aside the impatient teenage-boy to assume the role of shadow charmer/Knight of the Dawn on a dangerous assignment.

Seth asked Bracken in a deeper, more serious tone of voice, "Bracken, what do you think you saw?"

Bracken visibly forced his hands by his side and met Seth's eyes. Seth was surprised to see a fair degree of certainty in the unicorn's eyes. "Kendra. I saw Kendra."

***.*.*.*.*.***

Seth watched Warren pace back in forth in front of the campfire, muttering to himself. Warren never paced.

Vanessa caught Seth's eye. Her look confirmed it.

"Crap." Was all he managed to say.

Warren stopped pacing. He looked at Bracken. "You're sure this dream thing…"

"A vision." Bracken interjected. "Now that I've considered it, I'm certain it was what those in fairy kingdom call," Bracken said a word in fairy language that Seth didn't understand. "In your tongue, the translation amounts to "a meeting of the minds". I would describe it as vision that can ensnare the receiver of the distress call at any moment."

"Distress call?" Vanessa prompted.

"Kendra was dreaming, and her subconscious was greatly troubled. Please understand, the amount of misery Kendra was experiencing must have been phenomenal for her to be able to put out the magic energy involved in this process unconsciously." Bracken looked each person in the eye before continuing. "Being fairy kind, Kendra retains a strong connection with those of the fairy kingdom. Her mind perceived me as the closest subject, and reached out to me. She and I weren't long in contact before she awoke abruptly. You can see the evils of the situation, I trust."

Seth nodded slowly. "Kendra is closer to us than she is to Fablehaven. She's in trouble, apparently in a lot of trouble. We have no idea how to find her, or what the cause of trouble she's in is."

"It's worse than just that." Vanessa chimed in quietly. Seth noted she had paled significantly. "Kendra is not simply closer to us than she is to Fablehaven. She's closer to us, than any other creatures loyal to the Fairy Queen."

Seth blanched. The Fairy Queen had a wide variety of subjects who populated various areas between where they were in Venezuela to the preserve in Connecticut.

"What's more," Bracken said, looking from Vanessa to Seth, "we all know that Stan and the others would never let any harm come to Kendra while they were alive. The question stands, what has happened to the inhabitants of the Fablehaven preserve?"

That was enough to quiet them all for a while.

Warren kicked a rock into the blazing flames, stirring both the embers and the people. He spoke.

"We need to try to get in contact with Stan asap."

Vanessa slung her bag off of her shoulders. After a moment of fumbling through it, she bore her cell phone.

"No service." She established, to Seth's dismay. Seth had his coin that allowed Bracken and himself to communicate in his pocket. His hand fiddled with it, while his mind wished fervently that he had left it with his grandparents.

"There is another way." Seth watched Bracken shoot a look of bewilderment at Vanessa. He too was caught off guard. His hopes were quickly diminished though when he looked at Warren.

Warren's lips quivered. He had whitened considerably. He was avoiding eye contact. His disposition reminded Seth disturbingly of when he had been under the enchantment of a revenant.

"What kind of way?" Seth asked Vanessa cautiously.

She squirmed uncomfortably. Her eyes stared at the ground. She tried to say something, but the words were unintelligible. Vanessa was always so calm and collected; Seth had never seen her like this. He found her nervousness very disconcerting.

Vanessa dug back into her bag and produced a shimmering, bleached scroll. Seth heard Bracken make a strange noise, somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp.

Additionally, Vanessa retrieved a pen that appeared to be glowing, as if it were made of light. The tip was the only truly distinguishable part, marked by a vibrant red.

"Vanessa Santoro-Burgess." To Seth's alarm, Bracken's voice had taken on a lethal edge. "You have precisely one minute to explain yourself before I take you into custody under the law of the Fairy Queen's realm for murder." His eyes held a fire that made Seth question if the paper in Vanessa's hands would instantly spontaneously combust.

"I knew this would be your reaction." She mumbled. "Stan had a similar one."

"For good reason." Bracken stated coldly.

"What is going on?" Seth stood to his feet.

Warren, who had been amazingly quiet while his wife was being charged with murder, was the one to answer him. He gazed into the smoke curling in wisps above the fire.

"What Vanessa is holding is a living document, Seth." His eyes flickered up to meet Seth's. "A _living_ document."

Seth still didn't understand. He looked at the scroll Vanessa held.

"I don't…"

Vanessa held up the document, as if for him to take it. For a brief instance, his skin made contact with the material. He recoiled immediately. Horror seeped into him. Skin. The scroll was made of skin. No human glittered like that though, or was that pale.

"A star." Seth realized.

Vanessa nodded solemnly. "It's called a starskin journal."

"Thirty seconds." Bracken said with a strained voice.

"I was given this by the Sphinx, who I now believe inherited it from Nagi Luna. Any qualms you have could have been settled with her, were she not dead." Vanessa had lost all semblance of discomfort, and was now speaking with the utmost confidence. "I find it to be as vulgar as you do. I kept it only because I knew it was potentially very useful. You cannot and will not take me into custody."

Bracken disagreed. "Even the possession of such a document is treasonous."

"I have sworn no fealty to the Fairy Queen's crown, so treason is not my concern." Vanessa's tone was deadly cold.

"You do not want the Fairy Queen as your enemy." Bracken replied, with matching enmity.

"Right because she'll be oh-so-very gracious when I let her prodigy, her son's girlfriend, die when I had the means to save her." Vanessa snapped.

Bracken looked aghast. He was torn between duty and love. Seth felt for his friend.

"I have an idea," he piped in, "why don't we use the starskin journal for the duration of our trip, but afterwards Vanessa will destroy it."

Vanessa arched an eyebrow, but nodded her consent. "I would be willing to acquiesce on those terms."

Bracken scrutinized Vanessa for a moment.

"Every minute wasted here with us now, could mean the difference between life and death for Kendra." Warren reminded him.

"Very well." Bracken said at last. "For Kendra. I have one condition though. Vanessa," he breathed in deeply. "You will allow me to dispose of the journal and the pen myself."

Vanessa nodded, a little too vigorously. Seth couldn't blame her. The starskin journal was revolting, but the idea of destroying it was too much.

"Great." Seth said. "How does it work?"

Vanessa held up the pen. "There are scant few of these scrolls in the world. Each scroll has a counterpart. The material is s- comes from a Star who abides here on earth. Two pieces of paper are taken from the Star, and the blood from the Star's veins in used for ink."

"The pen itself is crafted from moonlight, unremarkable and not novel. Several people own moonlight pens. Bracken could make one now, if he so desired."

"Stars, like unicorns, have the ability to communicate telepathically over long distances. The scroll retains that ability. Write anything on the starskin journal, and the counterpart will receive the message. Obviously starskin journals are considered contraband, but they have their purpose. They have been proven to work across worlds." This was accompanied with a faintly indignant glance in Bracken's general direction.

"Stan Sorenson received the counterpart?" Bracken looked stricken.

"Only after an extremely long argument. Stan may find the starskin journals distasteful, but he accepted that we may have no other means of communicating so far away."

"I could have made something else." Bracken rubbed his temples.

Vanessa shook her head. "You didn't say you were coming for sure until the last minute. And when you did join up, you were too sullen about being away from Kendra to have thought of it."

The unicorn reddened, but said nothing else. He couldn't argue with the facts. Seth was glad he wasn't the only one who had noticed Bracken's alteration in demeanor. But he hadn't put two and two together like Vanessa had.

"Is he watching for messages from us?" Warren asked.

Vanessa nodded, replying "He's supposed to be checking every hour. That is, as long as nothing has happened to him. I will first ask him a question only he, or one of the family members, would know the answer too. Seth, I'm going to need a question."

Seth sucked in his lips. What would only Grandpa know the answer too? Seth thought back to his first days at Fablehaven. Grandpa had been a stickler for the rules back then. He had given Kendra and Seth so many of them. Seth told Vanessa what to write.

Vanessa wrote in a scrawling hand,

_Stan-_

_When Kendra and Seth first arrived at the preserve you gave them one explicit rule. _

_What was the reason that you gave them for this rule?_

The words faded slowly into the page. Soon it was blank as before.

"Now we wait." No sooner had the words escaped her lips than the reply came.

_Vanessa-_

_Seth and Kendra were told not to go into the woods because there were ticks that carried lime disease._

They all looked at Seth. He nodded his head. Vanessa bent her head and began writing once more.

_Stan-_

_Bracken has had a meeting of the minds with Kendra. We know that she is in trouble. What has happened?_

They had to wait a little longer than before for the response, presumably because it was lengthier.

_Vanessa-_

_Kendra was abducted from the preserve approximately forty-eight hours ago. Regrettably, it took us over four hours to discover her absence. We do not know who or what took her. We do not know why she was taken. The Larsens have returned early, and have helped Dale, Ruth, Hugo, Mendigo, and I to search around the preserve. There is no trace of her, except her car was left in the driveway, with a rather large dent in the front. _

_We have refrained from contacting anybody because of our previous suspicions. We assume the Society is involved._

_The news of the meeting of the minds, if you mean it as we understand it to mean, is most unfavorable, but at least Kendra is alive._

_Find out what you can._

_We are expanding our search, exhausting all leads, and calling in favors._

_Let me know when you find out something._

At least Kendra is alive, Seth thought hollowly. As much as she annoyed him, unless it was of his doing, Seth didn't want anything terrible to happen to her. He needed to find her soon.

"What a coincidence that Kendra should go missing and wind up so close to us." Vanessa said with a meaningful look at Warren. Seth felt his stomach do a dance.

Warren went to kneel in front of her. "Seth," he started, not looking away from Vanessa, "where did our information come from again?"

"Well," Seth ran a hand through his hair, "I called in a favor."

"From?"

When Seth had completed his bargain with the Singing Sisters, he went through a series of life-changing adventures. Many glorious victories were his for the taking. Equally as many sobering, near-death encounters were known to him as well. He came to know sufficiently his strengths, unearthed his most crippling weaknesses, and, he thought (though nobody else seemed to) he had matured a great deal.

At one point he had done a favor for a powerful being. He hadn't wanted to, but it was the only advantageous option at the time. She promised him one unconditional favor reserved indefinitely.

When Grandpa Sorenson had confronted them about the problem with the Society, and when they had no other leads, Seth had known it was time to call in his favor.

Grandpa Sorenson would not have approved of who Seth was dealing with, Seth knew. While Seth did not trust the source, he did believe that the source had given him accurate information. She had told Seth that the Society had a new master and he could be caught unawares in the jungles of Venezuela. That was all she had given him.

Seth had told Grandpa that he found this out from a friend that he couldn't reveal. It had taken a lot of bravado to convince his grandfather of the reliability of the information. At the time it hadn't felt like lying so much. He'd been eager to prove himself further to his family. Seth had considered that the only reason his Grandpa had taken his word on the matter was that he was developing some trust in Seth's judgment. Now Seth was mentally kicking himself, feeling miserably guilty from head to toe.

"The Swamp Hag." He said looked at the ground, thinking about melting into the shadows of the night.

Warren just sighed. Vanessa moaned. Bracken put his face in his hands.

If his first misadventure with Muriel had taught him nothing, he should have known otherwise not to go messing about with crazy old women living in confinement on the Fablehaven preserve. Seth ran a hand through his hair.

"But why would the Swamp Hag send us here? How would she have known about Kendra?"

"Whoever is in charge of the Society of the Evening Star now is more cunning than we first believed." Bracken inhaled sharply. "We've played right into their hands."

"What?" Warren and Vanessa turned their heads simultaneously.

"The list of the Eternals. Seth, Kendra, Warren, and Vanessa are a few of the ten names that appear on the semi-final list. The rest are knights who have proven their worth less recently."

Warren finished for him. "If I were an evil mastermind I would go for the opponents that I felt were the biggest threat first, and worry about the rest later."

Seth didn't know whether or not to feel flattered or really, really ticked off. Given the occasion, he went with the latter of the two.

"We need to warn Stan." Vanessa began briskly composing an explanation.

"Where do we go from here?" Vanessa shook her head at her husband. He sat beside her. Together they whispered in hushed, urgent tones as she continued writing.

"I only hope," Bracken said, face still in his hands, "that we are not too late."

Yeah. Seth hoped the same thing.

* * *

**A big thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story so far. Rest assured, there is more to come. I'm not sure how much, but I promise I won't leave you all hanging (... provided I don't die, the world doesn't end, and the world wide web doesn't crash or something *superstitiously knocks on wood to prevent any of these from happening*).**


	7. Chapter 7: Mad Master and Mirima

**For whatever reason, I was punished by the Fates to be wifi-less for these past several weeks – not sure what heinous crime I committed that warranted such a brutal retribution.**

**Thanks for faithfully waiting. Here, have a virtual I.O.U on me.**

** Guest – The idea for the starskin journal was the product of mine and my maternal unit's collaboration, which stemmed from a conversation about innovative ways to communicate found in various popular works of fantasy, followed by another bout of research on that God-send, the Fablehaven wiki page.**

**On with the story. By the by, this is a very detailed chapter with little dialogue. Prepare for a barrage of information! Fair warning.**

**Disclaimer: I own a copy of all five books, but I do not happen to own the rights to Fablehaven. That honor abides with the estimable Brandon Mull.**

* * *

Kendra fought off the dizziness, struggled to retain her self-control. Gavin had pulled back to gauge her reaction. His face was slightly reddened, his eyes were blazing, narrowed with precision, and he was breathing heavily.

Kendra had to think fast. If she commanded him, he would act arbitrarily to her demands. No amount of pleading would placate the monster. Playing nice was out of the question. Apparently civility brought out his ugly side.

_You mean his hideous_ _side,_ Imaginary Seth chimed in, _His ugly side is all you've seen since the beginning._

_So not helping right now!_, Kendra thought back.

Her conscience shut itself up. Great. Now she really was out of options. There was only one thing left to do.

Submit. Or, to be more specific, submission to the extent of apathy.

Kendra said nothing. She neither prevented nor encouraged him; she did nothing. Except stare back at him passively.

The energy in the room intensified tenfold. It was as though their wills were locked into a struggling embrace, silently trying to undermine the other. He didn't have to touch her to make her cringe in this moment.

Kendra wasn't sure how long she was going to hold out. Gavin, like the Sphinx and other certain members of the society, was infamous for patience and cunning. In a battle of will, Kendra stood slim chance of outlasting him. She resolved to hold her ground for as long as possible.

For a small eternity, these two souls combatted. Initially, there was a round of the Quiet Game. When he had understood her angle, which didn't take long, he switched tactics.

Using his physical presence, he imposed. Kendra dismissed him by slouching disinterestedly. He searched her eyes, sparring with her at different volumes of condescension. She deflected using blank, empty stares. He spoke harshly, reaching blood curdling crescendos; then seductively, whispering sickly-sweet nothings; then in superior tones, yielding an incessant repetition of facts intended to disembowel her from "below the belt". Kendra denied him nothing, and thereby everything.

Eventually, he removed his arms, giving Kendra some relief (she was careful not to show it, lest he see through her ruse). Kendra heard everything he said. Each truth, lie, and unspoken manipulation she had valiantly took under the façade. Nevertheless, she heard and was wounded deeper each time.

Had she lived the life of an abused child, she might have been relieved by some defense mechanism – have the ability to build a wall with each word until she was safely shielded from the maelstrom of hurt. However, Kendra had known nothing but love from her immediate family. That said, her control in situation was commendable, but Kendra took no pride in the game. The toll it was taking on her weathered all emotions down, till she was in a daze.

She was going to pass out. _Not this time_, Imaginary Seth spoke with a softness that she had never heard her brother use.

She was vaguely aware that Gavin was backing up. When had he stopped speaking?

Was he panting? Was that sweat streaming from the corners of his eyes?

"You think you will win this war, as you've managed to win all of the battles. You are wrong Kendra Sorenson. You cannot win. Not this time. My Master is an entity of iniquity from before the dawn of time. He is more than the Evening Star. More than the night. Inside him is an abysmal chasm of insidious wrath. He is absolute obscurity." Gavin's voice was filled with reverence.

He stepped back slowly until he reached the wall. His eyes, which had been looking past her, came back to settle on Kendra.

"You wondered if my reappearance had anything to do with necromancy. I will elaborate. Perhaps I should not reveal the whole of this to you, but if it will aid you in understanding that resistance is futile, I will accept the risk. I will tell you my story."

Gavin absently tucked his hair behind his ear. A nervous habit? Kendra wondered.

A pause.

"The First King of the dragons was there when light first came into the world. He watched Mankind's creation from dust, he bided the eons. Millenniums of power were his. The draconic race was feared and respected. Then he was not called the First King, because he was the only king. His authority was never questioned among the dragons, because in size and power he was unrivaled. His law, which was that of Chaos, was adhered to religiously. Dragon eat dragon – and every other living creature – was the rule. He was the complete opposite of Celebrant; ignoble, unjust, deliberately malicious.

An age drove him into madness, any semblance of order vanished, and the condition the dragons lived in became unbearable. At the start of fifteenth century dragons were tired of dealing with "knights in shining armor" (also known as self-realized dragon tamers) who were making a sport of killing our kind. They wouldn't have been able to nearly as easily as they did, talk went, if dragons of the day weren't so malnourished. The dragons were constantly fighting over food (which was scarce at the time), treasure hoards, lairs, etcetera. Chaos allowed for them to destroy each other. They were living, they said, in a state of "endless recovery".

Talk of revolution did not perturb the Father of all Hatchlings. He was not unwise to it, – the dragons who were devoted to him were constantly vying to get his ear with such information they could scour - he simply did not think any would dare challenge him.

What happened was similar to the myth of the Titan Kronos' downfall. The King had many off-spring. One of his brood was called Celebrant. Celebrant had learned the secrets of knowledge, and drank deep from the fountain of wisdom called "man". Celebrant decided that his king was no longer the type of king that the dragons needed. Progress of the humans meant less freedom for the dragons. Compromises would have to be made to preserve the species. The First King would never agree to anything of the kind. Therefore, he had to go. But go where?

While Celebrant brewed over this, he rallied a host of dragons behind him – along with several dragon tamers, whom he had made some sort of classified pact with. He thought his subterfuge was undiscovered but of course the First King always knew Celebrant's plans.

When Celebrant reached his lair the First King had already made up his mind on how he was going to handle the situation. The Father of all Hatchlings was agitated by this day dreamer's audacity. What's more, the dragon king had, for once in his long life, felt uneasy. Celebrant had managed delude more dragons than the First King would have ever thought. And dragon tamers! The idea! No, the First King was going to have to deal with this dragon swiftly and mercilessly.

Celebrant approached the First King seemingly alone. His friends were on the outside of the king's home, fighting with the large majority of dragons who had declared fealty to the dragon crown. That was what his army was for. His face off with the King was his own.

The First King sat surrounded by ten dragons – those closest to him - some female, whom were his concubines, some male who made up his 'guard', and a couple of hatchlings fresh out of their eggs that he sent his 'guards' to retrieve whenever he was hungry.

'You dare challenge me?' The First King had hissed.

In reply Celebrant did the one thing that the First King did not expect. He stepped aside to reveal what appeared to be a human. The First King laughed heartily at Celebrant's expense.

'Fool! No mere dragon tamer can subdue the Father of all Hatchlings!'

'But I,' the man had stated calmly, 'am no human.' The King did not hear him, and went on laughing. If only he had considered this man!" Gavin suddenly cried out causing Kendra to jump. Gavin went on, lost in the story.

"This man as you may guess was a wizard. All dragons had a human avatar, they knew. But a wizard had never been heard of in those days.

The end goes that the wizard was a greater match for the Father of all Hatchlings. This wizard was already well on in his life. He was a mighty enchanter, having spent centuries learning about and discovering magic of all kinds. It has been speculated that this wizard was the greatest to ever live. He had spent his life in hiding from the dragon king, imposing self-inflicted exile. How Celebrant managed to find him was never known.

The wizard, while the First King was still laughing at Celebrant, asked if any of the dragons who were sided with king would reconsider. None would. With a rueful smile he began chanting. A signal from the wizard sent Celebrant indiscreetly escaping.

When the First King realized what was happening, it was already too late. The wizard trapped him in his lair with a curse that surpassed all those that came before it or after. Specifically he named the King, but he included a clause for all dragons with spirits wholly consumed by Chaos to remain trapped forever in the prison."

Gavin had Kendra raptured at this point. Kendra could see it all happening. And she felt she knew where Gavin was going. Yet there were details she was missing that were needed to complete the puzzle.

"The wizard swiftly walked out with an incensed dragon king on his heels. But when the king tried cross the threshold of his cave, he found that he could not. An invisible, but very real, very strong barrier had been placed there. This did not stop him from trying, but in vain. The wizard, that wizard," Gavin spat, "that Sairon Mirima," Kendra felt her breath hitch in her throat. "told him 'I denounce you as king. Forthwith, you are no longer the authority of the dragon species. Your heir, Celebrant, is now and forevermore, the King of the Dragons.'

The First King raged for hours. The sight of their king defeated was enough for all of the dragons who had previously sworn their undying love to announce their immediate withdrawal and submission. Victory was the revolutionaries. Celebrant became king and a new world order was instated.

What of the First King? His guards and his concubines were almost all capable of leaving. No one came, except for the occasionally ensnared dragon who was forced against his will into the First King's prison by some doer of 'good'. The First King, as previously said was mad and cruel. He preferred Chaos always. After the event of losing his kingdom the First King was now filled with hatred too.

He loathed Celebrant. He despised Sairon Mirima, and all others of his kind. He detested that which was created from light, which was made from order, which was good. He would in time avenge himself, but he needed a way to keep up with the goings on of the outside world.

One of the hatchlings, who had been an intended meal for the First King, had refused to leave the prison with the others. He had been abandoned by his parents, and had no interest in the wide world. He found comfort in the bleakness of the prison. Looking around him, the young dragon felt as though his soul had been crafted into a home. It was the personification of melancholia, emptiness, and antipathy." Gavin murmured demurely. "So he had stayed."

"The First King called the young one to him. He earned his trust, watched over him, let the boy call him 'Master'. He struggled to keep the hatchling from utter mental and emotional destitution, as it went against his nature to do so. He sent the young one out periodically to glean information about the evolving world.

The First King learned that Sairon Mirima had previously been a sea dragon – a rare and unusual kind of dragon, that wasn't a serpentine, wingless monster, but simply a dragon who was born with part of his heart made from salt water. Sairon Mirima had started an order of wizards who helped found and worked alongside the Knight of the Dawn to make the preserves and sanctuaries that you are familiar with.

Celebrant was virtually untouchable, much to the First King's chagrin. Sairon Mirima, however, was not so exclusively protected. On the contrary, he lead a considerably vulnerable way of life. He was living with some had-been mermaid or nymph or siren of some kind off the Japanese coast. With this in mind, the First King began to plot.

He had the young dragon bring him paraphernalia that would teach him what he had failed to know, what Sairon Mirima had known. The young dragon was his Master's lifeline. His Master lived off of the stories of mischief the dragon came back with. Everything from consorting with demons, to making a preserve fall, to razing small villages. His pride was at a climax when the dragon came home bearing the honorary title of Demon Prince. Now that was quite the story…" Gavin broke off, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a twisted smirk. Kendra bit the inside of cheeks to resist the impulse to turn away.

It took Gavin a while to recover from his reverie. At length, he began again.

"His Master was endlessly plagued by troubles. He frequently argued with himself about the particulars of a number of plans he had thought up to extract his revenge on those who had imprisoned him. He fretted over each detail in an obsessive manner.

His distress was heightened when he could not find a means of removing the enchantments placed on the prison. The only way he might be able to was if he became a wizard, which was something he refused to do. In time it became increasingly apparent to the First King that he would have to use an instrument to accomplish his means. Not as satisfying, but effective nonetheless.

The young hatchling had grown into an impressively deviant dragon. But still he was allowed to come and go as he pleased. His heart was not consumed by Chaos. He knew that it was important to his Master than he remained as he was, so kept preserved that distant shred of - what was it exactly? He never could be certain. It was guesswork for him.

Order is, by definition, the opposite of chaos, so the dragon kept a tight schedule. A routine. Furthermore, he did not allow despair to overtake him. Despair, the First King told him, was what kept himself in the prison. He could not think of a way to overcome it entirely.

The First King made a plan and confided into his boy. The plan was this:

He had his prodigy go one night and take his avatar form. The dragon boy met up with a Japanese child, a street urchin. He paid him in gold to go into the abode of Sairon Mirima and his female friend and slit their throats. As a child, he got past the wards of Sairon Mirima easily. Neither of them even awakened. Less pain than the wizard deserved, but he was gone, and that was the important thing to the First King.

The First King was inordinately pleased that his tyro had been successful. He congratulated the boy on his execution. The dragon's soul swelled with pride at the sound of his Master's praise. Unfortunately, their triumphant feelings were short lived.

The very next time the dragon went out in avatar form, he was ambushed and captured. His captors cast spells, handicapping him from being able to return to his natural form. The man who seemed to be in charge of the posse was called by his fellow conspirators, the Sphinx."

The name sent a shiver down Kendra's spine. This time Gavin noticed her reaction. His eyes searched hers for a prolonged minute. Still, he continued on.

"The dragon was condemned, put into the Quiet Box indefinitely for his crimes. The boy simply let them do as they would, and did not say a word to anybody. His loyalty and faith began and ended with his Master.

The day came for him to be confined. The Sphinx was in charge of delivering him to Fablehaven, and, upon arrival, transferring him into the Quiet Box. The boy didn't know who's place he was taking. Someone the Knights of the Dawn distrusted less than him. What did he care?

Just as the Sphinx was putting the dragon-boy into the Box, he spoke a few words that caused the boy's spirits to rise. Concisely worded, breathed into his air, they inspired confidence, sent him in, concealing beneath his robes, a smile. Words that kept a shred of his sanity while he was inside the Quiet Box."

Kendra found she was holding her breath when Gavin spoke, "They were 'I am loyal to the First King, True King, the Father of all Hatchlings, the Master."

Here Gavin shifted for a moment, having forgotten Kendra again. When he began for a final time he dropped the transparent pretense. "My Master had maintained correspondence with people, having me drop letters off in different locations. I know now that the majority of those letters were for members of the Society, namely the Sphinx. When I was released from the Quiet Box I immediately sought out my Master.

He put me in the service of the Sphinx. He believed in the man, the Society, their work. When I died however,"

Gavin sharply looked up at Kendra. His gaze sent a wave of uneasiness over Kendra. His eyes were so lackluster all of a sudden. Like the life had gone out of him.

"He soon lost faith. The Sphinx no longer sent him information. Without his trusted servant he was losing his cards. The opportunities were slipping away. So there was one option left to him.

As previously mentioned, he didn't want to become a wizard. His prejudice against Sairon Mirima prevented him seeing the benefits of the situation. Nevertheless, he underwent transformation for the last time, and became a wizard.

Using all the knowledge he had at his disposal he spent long hours preparing for what no wizard had ever done.

I know you're wondering why he didn't just take down the barrier by himself at this point." Gavin licked his dry lips. "I did too at first. But don't forget he's mad, crazed, senile. _Any wizard could take down or put up a barrier, _he told me, _but only one wizard has ever restored the gift of life._ I don't know." He blurted out, as if unable to control himself any longer.

Kendra raised an eyebrow.

"I can't remember." He shrugged. His shoulders didn't rise again. He slumped against the wall. "I don't know what it was like being dead." His voice had become coarse "I know I the pain was searing the split second before that awful fairy dragon finished me entirely." A solitary bead of sweat trickled down from Gavin's nose. His teeth were clenched. "And then I woke up, and it hurt still, but not as much."

"My Master was overjoyed at my return. He told me of what happened to him, what he had become. He asked me a bunch of questions about the afterlife that I didn't have the answers too. I tried to remember, but I couldn't."

"I guess he was a little disappointed in me for that. But mostly he was proud of himself.

Shortly thereafter he maneuvered the barrier so that we both could leave as we pleased. Yet he hasn't gone out to this day. Early on I couldn't understand what was holding him back but now I suspect…."

He stopped short. He straightened his back. Someone, somewhere, flipped a switch. "I've already said too much." He said to himself in a mumble that Kendra only just heard.

He swiftly broke off from the wall, sauntered briskly up the stairs, muttering inaudibly to himself under his breath.

Without even a sideways glance in her direction, he exited – unwittingly leaving Kendra alone to process all that she'd recently discovered.


	8. Chapter 8: The Cursed

**Greetings Fablehaven fandom! A quick word – I can't say it enough – thank you for your reviews. I love to get feedback on my work. Comments on Kendra's conscience? What do you all think of Imaginary Seth?**

**Fact – The setting for the Forbidden Dragon Sanctuary in Venezuela is based on the Dragon Falls. If you get a chance, I'd highly recommend googling the images of the falls. There are some breathtaking photographs out there.**

**A special shout out to my editor in chief, Mewki. Without her, my will to go on (with the story that is) would be all but diminished by this point.**

**Heads up; this is another chapter lacking a substantial amount of dialogue. Sorry! **

**Disclaimer: I've said once, I'll say it again, I don't own Fablehaven. Brandon Mull does. I also don't own Lewis Caroll, Alice Wonderland, or the improper English phrase that Alice trademarked.**

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The endless cloudbank loomed over the jungle, forbidding the use of shadows in the gray, dull, glaring light. Yet if one looked close, just above the canopy, one might have seen a small, dark, defiant shadow gliding stealthily along the length of the green, leafy sea. If one chanced a quick look higher up they would not be able to discern what was making the shadow. What kind of creature is invisible, yet casts a shadow? This would undoubtedly puzzle an onlooker, perhaps to the extent where they would suspect mischief of some kind.

The truth is, the shadow was not a shadow. It was a Myotis sodalist – or – a hand-sized, brownish, black bat. This type of bat is often seen in the northeast of the United States of America. What then was it doing in South America?

The bat was flying in a direct line, unfaltering for even a respite. A closer inspection, would have revealed a peculiarly conscious and determined air about this particular Myotis sodalist. Also, he appeared to be undeterred by the sunlight. Did he not have trouble seeing?

It would be easy to derive that this bat was not like others of its kind.

The path it did not waver from could be traced to an end at a massive waterfall. To shed some light as to why the bat was headed in this direction, a summary of the past is in order.

The creature had lived alone in the jungle for time out of mind. Once upon a dream, in the days of bygone era, he had been social being, living in a village outside the jungle with a family. He had a wife and one small child. A girl with straw-spun hair, soft moss colored eyes, and a character which was strange to no one, and found non else strange. He loved her more than he knew how.

One fateful day, a fearsome crone hobbled onto his doorstep. His family had been out foraging that day – a blessing which he never failed to thank the gods for. The witch, for witch she was demanded that he take her in and hide her. The law was hot on her heels. Being an honest fellow, he refused. Eyes blazing with a purple fire – he still saw those eyes in his nightmares – the witch placed a curse on him. It all happened so quick. She vanished from sight as she said the ominous words, "You will live the rest of your days as I. Forever alone, forever hunted."

The terror had paralyzed him. Then anger replaced the terror. As he felt his anger he could feel himself changing. Fear came back and he tried to reverse the change, but it was too late. Where hands should have been, there were wings. Where skin should have been there was fur. He had become a bat.

Bats were abhorred in his village, more so than any other animal. They grew up with legends of vampires, creatures who walked normally among friends during the day, but drained people of their blood at night. They transformed into bats, and hid among the darker hovels of the jungle.

He discovered that any time he lost himself in emotion, he changed. When he was able to collect himself, he returned to his natural state. One look in the mirror though showed him that even his true self was no longer what it had been. His face, which his whole life had been deeply tanned, was now pasty white. His eyes, which had been cerulean blue, had altered to black.

Despair set in. He knew he could not stay and let his family see what he had become. The villagers would hunt them too if he was seen in their company. He could not allow harm to come to them, if it was in his power not to. Especially not his precious child. So he left that evening before they came home.

The edge of the forest was some mile away. There he took refuge. Months went by and he learned how to better control his changing. But it was a year until he ventured to visit his family in the dead of night. His wife looked sick, and wept over dinner. His daughter tried to console her, but ended up in tears as well.

The father watched from his vantage point, realizing for the first time that he had not prevented hurt from coming to his family by leaving so mysteriously. He should have said good-bye! His impulse was to run inside and scoop his beloveds into his arms, but he knew that now he would do more harm than good. Alas! That he should have thought the clearer before then.

He continued to come every night thereafter and watch over his family. They aged, but, to his further dismay, he found that he did not. Another wicked part of the curse placed upon him. After his grand-children had passed on from life, he fled to the heart of the jungle in his depression.

Other animals warily avoided him. It was like he had a stink about him that made them uneasy. He did not see this amenity in a favorable light. He wished fervently that something would eat him and end his miserable existence.

He thought often of taking his own life. But any time that he set the prick of the knife against his skin, he found that he did not have the courage to go through with it. Days came and went, and he lost track of how old he was supposed to be.

To pass the time he made it his business to learn the ways of the jungle. He could identify every square foot of the landscape. Residents, hidden paths, secrets hovels, none where unbeknownst to him. His head held a map, which contained footnotes detailing all sorts of interesting phenomena. He gravitated toward the falls hidden within the forest. He liked to watch the cascade of the water. It was the only thing that brought him enjoyment any more.

He had seen many winged fire-breathers go through the watery wall in his time. The falls beheld more visitors than any other part of the jungle. They seemed to attract a variety of mythical and mortal peoples. This did not shock him so much. He was from a time period when some magical beings still resided freely in the world. Notably, even outside the falls, the jungle had always contained exceptional categories of dangerous, wild, enchanting things. Besides, he was not normal by mortal standards, in more ways than one.

Prudence would have told him not to stray so near such a precarious place. Yet he was confident that the peril was limited (anyhow, even if it wasn't, he was not opposed to being demolished). Drakes came in, but did not come out. He understood what covert place lay behind the falls was a kind of prison for dragons. After all, it was _only_ dragons that ever went in.

In the past, one dragon had come out – the only one ever to do so. Sometimes he came out in the form of a human boy, which shocked him to no end. It took him awhile to discover that the boy and the dragon were one in the same. The cursed bat never went near this one dragon. He had insidious look about him.

But then he had seen the dragon be captured in a human form. It was later, how much later he couldn't tell, but the dragon boy had come back.

All this the Cursed – that was what he called himself, for he had forgotten his name – watched with mild intrigue. Till the dragon/boy came back to the falls with a girl in tow – that's when the Cursed really began paying attention. The Cursed ventured to fly underneath the dragon. He witnessed in disgusted horror, the dragon morph into the shape of the young man and sent the pair plummeting towards the ground, only to save them at the last minute.

Drawing as near as he dared, the Cursed saw the girl clearly - and nearly fell out of the sky his own self. Phantom memories rose up in the recesses of his mind to form pictures of a lovely girl with straw spun hair and mossy green eyes.

When the dragon took the girl behind the falls, the Cursed sat on the bank of the river and thought for a drawn out while.

She had appeared to be being held against her will. Why else would she be with that evil dragon? What's more, he girl _appeared_ to look almost exactly like his daughter. He watched the falls thunder down to earth for hours. Then he wandered through the forest, contemplating.

It is important to note that he had not used words for centuries. He'd forgotten how to use them. So reasoning, even silently, took longer than it might have once had. He couldn't argue with himself even though he wanted to.

Finally, he made his mind up.

The drowsy veil that had distorted his vision of the world, was lifted. The Cursed awakened. The golden glimmer of hope, a chance at redemption, was entertained by him.

He flew straight to the falls, not even wavering for a second. He wasn't sure what awaited him behind that silvery curtain. In any case, he'd forever had a morbid fascination with what dreadful marvels the dragon prison concealed. Now he was going to find out, and, along the way, he was going to seek out that damsel who resembled his daughter.

The Cursed intended to help save her if he could. His heart pounded in hopes that she did in fact need his aid, and would receive it. Presuming that the dragon boy had not done something terrible to her already.

The icy water nearly prevented him from his mission. He recovered and hovered just beyond the entrance. Luck of an extraordinary kind was with him.

The dragon boy was standing outside a door shaped hole in the cavern wall, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. The Cursed watched him in the shadows. Promptly, the boy stopped pacing and darted back into the hole. The Cursed barely made into the passage before the hole disappeared. The dragon boy took no notice of his companion. He continued to mutter to himself, incoherently.

The Cursed followed the sound of the boy's breathing. Eventually he came to another opening in the black hall. This one lead into a room containing a stunning white nest, connected to a tree. The Cursed was distraught when he could find no sign of the girl. He watched the dragon boy walk over to the far side of the nest. There he bent down. Curious, the Cursed followed him.

There the dragon boy leaned over an odd chest, a horrible look contorted his features. He opened the chest to reveal a staircase. He made to enter the chest then abruptly stopped. He closed the lid again. With a deep, rumbling sigh he laid his head down on the lid.

The Cursed didn't understand this. Up until now the dragon boy had represented archetype evil to the Cursed. But this action seemed utterly human, that it caused the Cursed confusion. The dragon boy stood up (the Cursed was careful to not let him see himself) and walked out of the alcove and out of sight.

The Cursed waited for a moment. Then he transformed into his natural state. Deftly he opened the lid and hopped in. He hesitated before closing the lid.

"Gavin?" A girl's voice unsurely called out to the Cursed.

With decisiveness, the Cursed closed the lid of the chest trapping himself and the girl inside.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Kendra sat with her back against the head board of her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, and arms tightly securing her legs. She was replaying Gavin's account over in her head. Trying to make sense of the mess that she was in.

After Gavin's hasty retreat, she'd dragged herself onto her bed in stupefaction. Her cheeks were puffy and red from crying. Her eyes had bluish purple bags seemingly supporting their weight. Her stomach growled in hunger, but she hardly noticed it.

The echoes of Gavin's narrative were a whirlwind in her brain. The usurpation of the dragon king, the events that shaped Gavin into who he was, or rather the person who had shaped Gavin into who he was.

In spite of knowing what she did about him, Kendra pitied Gavin. Orphaned in early childhood only to be raised in the darkness by a mad man.

She recalled the last of his speech. The moment when he spoke about dying, he truly did look like he belonged to Death. Kendra was not superstitious. Her brother held the reserve of that sequence from the gene pool. Nevertheless, she felt that there was something awfully wrong about brining someone back from the dead. Stories where Death had been cheated never ended well. Foreboding shrouded Gavin like an Atlas sized cloak.

Gavin had been brought back by necromancy, Kendra's suspicions had been correct. His Master was responsible for his reappearance in the world of the living. The First King, the Father of All Hatchlings, Master - Gavin had many names for the necromancer who brought him back to life. Kendra could only think of one title that best suited the wretch – Monster.

The Master had been unmasked. The mysterious leader of the Society was him who had been the king of the dragons before Celebrant. The "First King" was an insane, powerful, murderous wizard, hell-bent on revenge.

He blatantly used Gavin to do his dirty work, though Gavin didn't seem to mind. He plainly adored his Master. Kendra guessed that while his Master obviously relied on him, he did not feel the same. If he favored Gavin as much as Gavin believed he did, then why had he not been to see him (Kendra felt sure that if he had been she would have known, through Gavin's actions) since they had returned from Fablehaven? She doubted he truly cared anymore for Gavin than he did the Sphinx. They were all a means to an end.

Imaginary Seth interrupted Kendra's train of thought. _Hey - isn't it ironic that Gavin was going to be eaten by this First King dude, and then Raxtus ended up eating him! Ha, ha! That guy was apparently destined to be cannibal food!_

"Ironic." Kendra mumbled aloud, half listening to the voice of her delusion.

"_He loathed Celebrant. He despised Sairon Mirima, and all others of his kind. He detested that which was created from light, which was made from order, which was good." _

Gavin's voice rang in her ears. What Kendra really honed in on was Sairon Mirima. Obviously the Cabin had been his. She had already known that. But now Gavin had put a face to a name.

It made Kendra sick to her stomach to think that she'd been sleeping in the same bed where somebody had been killed. A horrible thought crossed her mind.

She checked the sheets. Upon seeing no blood stains on the sheets, she let out a small sigh of relief. Closing her eyes, she slouched forward.

Sairon Mirima- this wizard, this man to whom she and the rest of the world owed so much – this amazing man. His genius saved the dragons; his partnership built a safer world. He had done so much good in his life. Thinking of his death brought tears to Kendra's eyes. In a place of quiet, but fierce, admiration that Kendra had reserved in her heart for Patton Burgess, the Fairy Queen, and a handful of others, Kendra made room for a new name.

Sairon Mirima.

Thinking of Mirima made Kendra think of Agad, which in turn made her think of the revolution Gavin had spoken of previously. The one that had happened at the prison, against the caretaker. Gavin had said that the revolution happened before his return. Kendra guessed that it was before he came back, but after his Master had become a wizard. The "First King" would have done horrible things to him. Again she felt a surge of pity for the caretaker. She wondered who he had been. He must have been quite brave to agree to live in such a place.

Now that she thought about it, Gavin never mentioned the caretaker in his narrative. Odd. In all his comings and goings, how had Gavin slipped past the person? Why did he leave that portion of the story out?

_Curiouser and curiouser_,Imaginary Seth trilled in a fake, girlish voice.

Kendra shook her head once. What she needed to worry about was what Gavin was going to do when he recovered his wits. He would probably storm back down and really eat her this time. Kendra was painfully aware that Gavin had done her no favor by telling her the true story. She was a liability now.

At least she understood her situation better. Kendra leaned back on the pillow, finding that she was exhausted. She glanced over at the stairs. What if Gavin came down while she was sleeping? What if – what if he did something to her? She shivered. No. He wouldn't do that. If she was honest with herself, he had ample opportunity to do _that_ if he'd wanted to already. Still, there was a possibility that he could guess her mindset, and try something to surprise her.

One thing was for certain, and that was that she couldn't stand another fight with Gavin without a little rest. Just as she was closing her eyelids, determined to get a bit of sleep, she heard the lid to the trunk open.

She bolted upward, sitting stiffly, holding her breath.

No one came down the stairs. A moment passed. The lid shut again. Kendra let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding in.

Then Kendra heard the lid creaking open again. Two resounding, unanimous thumps sounded out.

Kendra couldn't help herself. "Gavin?

In answer, the lid was carefully shut back. Heavy footfalls sounded causing the stairs to screech out intruder!

Kendra was dumbfounded. Gavin didn't take care to open and close the trunk's lid like that. He didn't make a sound when ascended or descended the stairs. Gavin was not the one with her in the Cabin. Kendra only think of one other person who might visit her confinement.

Springing out of bed, trying to fight off the tremble in her bones, she looked at her guest.

She was surprised for the second time in the hour.

The person before her was a dwarf, no more than four feet tall. A naked dwarf, standing there in all his glory. He fixed her with a triumphant gaze, an amiable grin, full of pointed teeth. His salt and pepper hair, streaked with black, was worn down to his shoulder. He had a wiry beard, which was a reddish brown. The colors of these elements contrasted strongly.

His face though, was strangest of all, because he looked of an indigenous origin based on his features, but his skin was an alabaster white.

Was this Gavin's Master? Impossible.

"Who – who are you?" Kendra asked in amazement.

The naked dwarf nodded like she'd asked him a yes or no question. Raising his outspread arms he inclined his hands to his chest. "Los Malditos, Los Malditos". His voice had the nuance of being rusted and gravelly.

It took Kendra a moment to remember the Spanish she'd taken in secondary school.

"Los malditos?" she murmured, her brain hard at work trying to translate. "Lost malditos."

The naked dwarf wagged his head swiftly up and down in encouragement.

Kendra felt her expression fall. Los malditos meant…

"The cursed?


	9. Chapter 9: A Vagrant Thought

**NicoleDaughterOfPoseiden – Gavin's "feelings" are extremely complicated right now. See story below for further explanation.**

**Disclaimer: Extra, Extra read all about it! Today's headline. I DON'T OWN THE RIGHTS TO FABLEHAVEN, BRANDON MULL DOES. In other news, Mark Twain and the **_**Mysterious Stranger **_**don't belong to me either.**

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Gavin was wearing a rut into the floor. He couldn't stop himself.

Imprudence! Telling that Fairykind girl everything was idiotic. Of course, it wasn't like she'd ever be able to tell anyone what she'd discovered.

Gavin stopped pacing. He looked around what he considered the foyer of his home. Kendra hadn't given up hope of being rescued. Gavin knew her well enough to suspect that she'd try to make off sooner or later. Headstrong imp. Escape was ridiculously improbable. At any rate, it was only a matter of how long before running from him would become impossible forever.

Gavin let his gaze wander over to the falls. A pang, familiar yet something that he yet to get used to, pierced his heart.

Kendra reminded him of her. Ludicrous. Kendra was nothing like Amana. Amana had been dark-skinned, the color of roasted nuts, with cerulean blue eyes, and a mop of untamable mud colored hair. Kendra was humble where Amana had been vainly haughty. The only quality the two shared was their innocent view of the wide world.

Amana was named after the South American goddess. Gavin had fondly thought of her as his private goddess. That was before his Master's revolution.

When Sairon Mirima came back for the first time, before the young Navarog had ever left the confines of the prison, he created the falls and put distractor spells on the prison. The naiad who took up residence in the falls was Amana. She was charged by the Fairy Queen, via Sairon Mirima, to the role of gatekeeper of the prison.

Gavin unconsciously took to walking to and fro once more.

The Forbidden Dragon Sanctuary, a name that the Knights of the Dawn so carelessly used, was not like the other forbidden dragon sanctuaries in the fact that no treaty had ever been signed by the residents. His Master and the other prisoners called Amana the Warden. He had jokingly called Amana the Caretaker whenever they had spoken. She hadn't minded so much. Using the nick-name in front of Kendra was a slip that Gavin was displeased at having made.

Amana had been the primary obstacle in the way of the First King being able to leave the prison. He was cunning. He knew that Navarog was a handsome young boy. He told Navarog to be charming, to be kind to Amana, to serenade her, to use whatever means necessary to make her like him. Gavin did as his Master commissioned.

Amana was lonely. None ever came to visit her. At the start, she wasn't receptive to company. He entreated her to let him show her how he could leave the prison, for his heart was not consumed by the Chaos that fastened the others to their gloomy cell. One day she let him, believeing him to be a charlatan, thinking she would get amusement from the activity. Much her to her astonishment, he passed through the barrier easily.

Eventually, she warmed up to his cooed greetings and soft spoken words. She let him come and go as he pleased, without telling the Knights of the Dawn on him. He was, after all, a pitiable orphaned dragon, who was looking for herbal remedies for his elderly imprisoned uncle's ailing body.

Gavin grinned at his cleverness. Her gullibility had been a blessing.

In return for the favor, Gavin pleased her as best he could. He feigned interest in her chattering about the life she'd lived in the Fairy Queen's realm. He sated her desires, allowing her to steal brief kisses (careful never to let himself lose control, should her fatal naidic nature take over). In lovely soprano tones she sang him ballads of lover's idylls, which he voraciously applauded afterwards. Anything she wanted was hers, so long as she continued to allow him passage whenever he (or rather his Master) willed.

Upon his arrival, following his release from the Quiet Box, Amana refused him passage for the first time. She obstinately told him that the Knights had informed her of what he had really been up to when he had gone away. She regarded him with jarring coldness. Gavin pleaded with her, for even if he forced his way past, she would tell the Knights of him.

He risked trying to kiss her. Unexpectedly, she allowed him to ensnare her lips. Gavin guessed why soon enough. She deepened the kiss, relinquishing the restraint she'd shown in the past. She put her webbed hands into his short cropped hair. Alarmed Gavin tried to break free of her grasp. She was stronger than he had intended.

It appeared that Gavin would drown, when, as his vision was failing, his temples throbbing from lack of oxygen, she pulled away. He gasped for air, blue in the face. Amana cried out and vanished into the falls.

Valiantly unperturbed, Gavin went into his home. Before he died, he never saw Amana again.

When Gavin returned to the land of the living, he went to see Amana, compelled to inexplicably. Amana cried out as she had before upon seeing him. She asked him how it was possible that he had gone out and disappeared, only to return but from the inside of the prison? There were no other entrances - Sairon Mirima sealed them all off (- It was recently that Gavin, in a fit of claustrophobia, had created the holes in his earthen ceiling leading to the outside world. Anyhow, the barrier enclosed the whole prison). He couldn't answer her. She grew angry. He tried to placate her, but she demanded answers.

Giving up the naiad, he returned to his Master. His Master had noticed Amana's disquiet. He told Gavin that Amana was asking too many questions. The time had come. She had to go.

It was then that the prison uprising occurred, though not as he had portrayed it to Kendra. Gavin was present for the "revolution", which consisted of his Master, himself, and another dragon Gavin had never seen before. This dragon was the cobra dragon that Kendra had seen raise its ugly head from the lower levels of the prison. The First King had not mentioned the presence of the cobra dragon prior to their arrival to the gate. He had not explained any of the details of his plan for getting rid of Amana.

They had discussed not sharing the "revolution" with the other inmates. This was alright because the dragons feared the ancient Father of all Hatchlings more than they did anything else. None would object to his designs, or demand to be included. Otherwise, his Master had simply told Gavin that he must remain in his avatar form no matter what occurred. Gavin thought this strange, but he wasn't in the habit of questioning his Master's eccentric motives.

Gavin could visualize the memory clearly, as if it were happening before his eyes a second time.

When Amana appeared to them, she obliged them to tell her what the meaning of their meeting was. Without warning, the cobra dragon lunged at Gavin pinning him down. Gavin bellowed in surprise and outrage. The First King never took his eyes off the naiad. Gavin's Master calmly told Amana that if she loved Gavin she would have to leave the falls and become mortal. It was the only way to save him. If she failed to act, the cobra dragon would devour Gavin before her eyes.

Gavin could see it all happening before his eyes. He recalled the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Amana would sense the trap – her naivety only went so far. Gavin didn't want to die again!

Did he?

When Gavin was younger, before his true imprisonment, he had found himself fascinated with the musings of Mark Twain. Gavin had stolen Sairon Mirima's steam trunk home, and inside he found hundreds of oddities. Journals had reveled the wizard's Achilles heel - a fascination with the novelties of the future. The writings of the wizard told him that Sairon had used the Chronometer to go forward in time. Gavin found all sorts of we he thought at the time was bewitched machinery - a megaphone, a radio, even a digital clock. He had also collected various author's works, including Mark Twain.

Gavin handed everything he found over to his Master - who eagerly took the treasures, but did not want the steam trunk itself - except for the books by Mark Twain. These he kept as his private spoils. His favorite story was the _Mysterious Stranger_. The tale was existentialist and nihilist. It reflected Gavin's worldly outlook. In the end the protagonist is enlightened to the fact that he is nothing more than a vagrant thought in the cosmos.

Why couldn't he remember what had happened to him when he died? Was it possible that it was because nothing had happened? No fiery depths or heavenly heights. Had he just ceased to exist?

To die meant nothing, Gavin told himself. He was nothing more than a vagrant thought. He felt emotion ebbing away from him with the epiphany.

Amana looked at his stony mask, her expression unreadable.

'Obviously you do not believe I will do it? Didn't he tell you? I'm quite mad!'

His Master then began raising his hand slowly from his side.

The cobra dragon smiled viciously down at Gavin. He opened his jaws and leaned down eagerly. Resigned, Gavin closed his eyes.

'Stop.' The word pierced the tense silence like an arrow.

Gavin opened his eyes in confusion. The cobra dragon, clearly disappointed pulled back, and with a grunt released Gavin. Gavin turned to Amana.

She stood dripping wet in front of the falls. The enchanting air of immortality was gone from her. Gavin could hear her heartbeat.

The First King laughed gutturally. With a discreet wag of his fingers behind his back, the cobra dragon lept away from Gavin. Amana had no time to react. He rushed out and with a roar consumed Amana in one impressively big bite. She was gone.

The First King continued to laugh. 'Well played my boy.' He had said, patting Gavin on the back. 'Well played'.

Gavin had not been listening to him, but nodded instinctively, mechanically. Amana had been nothing to him. He thought, for all their games, he had been nothing to her. Her idiotic sacrifice proved otherwise. Oh well. Another vagrant thought freed from the arbitrary rules of the silly game of the living. If anything he should envy her.

Yet Gavin had felt a coldness, a chill swathing him. His neck hairs had stood on end. Amana had been looking at him with what could be described as reconciled sympathy, just before she was encased in the cobra dragon's hungry embrace.

Since then she'd haunted him. In the mornings he woke, touching a bizarre, faintly cool, almost wet, spot on his cheek. In that time before he was fully aroused, he ached for a distant remembrance of melancholy cerulean blue eyes.

Gavin stopped pacing. Why was he thinking of Amana after he'd fought with Kendra Sorenson? A tingle in the back of his mind advised him to dread the answer to that question. A sudden rage swelled up in his heart. He didn't know who he was angry at, but he knew who he could take his anger out on.

At a brisk pace he strode up the stairs to his room. Stepping across the threshold, he stormed steadily to the alcove and the steam trunk. He crouched down and opened the lid of the chest. He started to enter but was frozen in an instant by an unearthly sound.

_Stop_. Amana's command resonated in the enraged dragon's mind. Gavin could so clearly hear her that he almost looked around to find her. Clenching the lid, he swiftly closed the steam trunk.

Gavin sighed with his entire being. Then he laid his head upon the trunk lid. What was wrong with him? He wondered.

Gavin stood up, and walked back toward the door, unseeing, without an intention to go anywhere. He was so lost in his pensive state, that he almost ran into the man standing in his doorway.

Gavin looked up to see Neak, much to his annoyance.

Neak was the name of the cobra dragon. He was in his avatar form. His avatar had swallow, sickly, yellow skin, shifty dirt-colored eyes, and greasy green hair. Gavin strongly disliked Neak. Neak was jealous of 'Navarog's' standing with the First King, so he was constantly trying to find ways to undermine him.

Neak was an easy target. Gavin was semi-grateful for the scum's appearance. He could unleash his wrath.

"Neak." Gavin's voice was dangerously low. "I hope for your sake there is a reason that you're depleting the air supply in my immediate vicinity. I have no patience for your insistence on basking in the light of my glory right now."

Neak flinched at Gavin's tone, but only a little.

"I?" He sneered his voice sounded like the drip of toxic waste, sizzling at the end as it burned through whatever it made contact with. "I bask in the glow of a puffed up babysitter?"

Gavin shrugged nonchalantly. "I am safeguarding one of the King's most dangerous adversaries. An individual who has bested a horde of demons, and single-handedly slayed the demon king Gorgrog. What are you doing? Would you like me to tell you? I know. You are no doubt brining me a message from your Master, requesting my presence. The King often requests my presence, have you noticed? Does he call upon you often?" Gavin was not taller than the spindly man, but he used his bearing to cause the man before him to flinch.

"I am Navarog the Demon Prince. Who are you? Neak the Thief – the slimly wretch that stole from Celebrant, barely worthy of the dragon prison. You are a page boy." Gavin hissed. "You are Hermes, free to wander the domain of our godly king, yes, but I am Hades, second only to the Zeus of our realm."

With this daring, vehement declaration Gavin pushed past Neak and began the ascent up the stairs. In a moment, he heard Neak follow, skulking behind him, muttering to himself.

Gavin felt somewhat more centered thereafter.


	10. Chapter 10: De Pilo Pendet

**Thanks for the lovely reviews. You all are too kind.**

**For anybody who read the ninth chapter when it was first published, heads up, I made a few changes.**

**In case anybody is curious, the chapter title is Latin.**

**Disclaimer: Brandon Mull owns Fablehaven. The end.**

* * *

Seth Sorenson was going to die from exhaustion. Any minute now, he would just sit down and die.

They had been trudging through the jungle for over twenty-four hours straight. No sign of Kendra. Bracken said he hadn't been able to connect with her again. He tried, but something was blocking his way. Some kind of ginormous magical barrier. Bracken was extremely grumpy because of this. They all were.

Bracken and Vanessa weren't speaking to each other either, adding to everybody's distemper.

"Guys," Seth ran the back of his hand over his feverishly sweaty forehead, "I think it's time for a break."

Nobody said anything, but they all stopped short. Looking around, Warren nodded. "For a little while."

Bracken looked like he was going to protest but he didn't. Instead he went over to a large tree trunk, sat down, and closed his eyes.

Seth didn't take another step. He plopped down on the mossy earth beneath his feet.

"I'm going to find food." Vanessa announced. She trotted off of their path into the dense underbrush.

Warren set about collecting sticks, apparently to start a fire. Seth sighed inwardly. The food that could be gathered would make them all sick, so Vanessa would have to kill something for them to eat. That meant fire. In the sweltering midday heat, Seth loathed the idea of kindling a fire.

Seth heard a rustle in the bushes. He craned his neck over to where Vanessa had disappeared. All of a sudden, Vanessa bolted into view. A vicious looking, harpy-esk eagle followed directly after her, screeching angrily. The violent bird circled her, trying to attack her face. Vanessa dodged here and there, and then, with superhuman precision, grabbed the birds neck. A sickening crack was heard.

Seth's mouth hung open. He looked at Warren who was watching his wife very closely.

"Just imagine what she'll do to you if you ever cheat on her." Seth grinned, hoping to ease the tension.

"Poor bird." Warren said solemnly. "You were trying to steal her babies and so she defended her family. She died valiantly."

Vanessa looked exasperatedly at him. "Shall I go and bury her then? Would you like to make a funeral pyre for her? I don't suppose you have any bagpipes with you?" She snapped.

Warren shook his head, but Seth noticed him biting back a smile. "A funeral pyre will have to suffice."

Vanessa saw he was teasing her. She rolled her eyes but she grinned.

"We'll sacrifice her to the gods – Hungerus, Foody, and Getinmybelly." Seth said, with as straight a face as he could manage.

The trio burst into laughter. It felt good to be absurd, to laugh a little. Cleansing almost.

Seth looked at Bracken. He was unmoved from earlier, his eyes still closed.

Vanessa and Warren went to work – Vanessa plucking and cleaning the bird, Warren starting the fire. Seth dragged himself nearer to Bracken.

"Hey, can I look at that map again?"

Bracken, wordlessly and without cracking an eye, procured a leathery folded piece of paper. He held it out. Seth took it.

"Thanks."

Seth opened the map. So far they had scoured the southern end of the jungle, and pieces of the west end. They'd fought off a jaguar, haplessly ran into several dark clouds of mosquitoes (and then ran like bats of out hell), but there was no sign of any unusual activity. There were beings of non-normal proportions out there – there had to be some kind of something in the abundance of the untamable region - but they'd yet to encounter anything.

Originally the plan had been to search every inch of the jungle until they discovered the lair of this sinister leader, using Bracken as a heat-seeking-magic-detector. The plan now was basically the same, except there was a new top priority – watch for any sign of Kendra Sorenson.

Once again, his family was endangered, and Seth couldn't help but feel that it was mostly his fault. Why had he ever listened to that worthless old lady anyway? 'Cause he wanted to have been the one to provide the information to save the day. That's why. His burning need to prove himself kept getting him into trouble.

Deep down he understood that his sister's kidnapping was not his fault, and he had been cleverly manipulated. But deep down didn't matter. Superficial panic had set in.

"Bracken!"

Bracken lackadaisically opened his eyes to slits.

Seth pointed to the map. "Where do you think we should look next?"

Bracken shook his head. _"I don't know." _His lips didn't seem to be moving. Seth realized he was communicating telepathically.

Seth projected his thoughts.

"_I'm sorry I screwed this up okay? But you're kind of being a jerkoff. I know you care about my sister, so help me find her!"_

"_I'm doing all I can Seth. I've gone well past what I considered my physical limits. If only Kendra would send me another vision!"_

Bracken had closed his eyes again, but there were creases on both sides of his temples.

"_I know. We're all tired. But we can't stop looking! We need to be clever. Where on this map could she be? Just look and see if you get any ideas." _Seth could hear the ring of pleading in his mind. His pleas were pathetic, his insistence childish, but he didn't care one bit. Looking at Warren, Vanessa, and Bracken's heavy expressions, they'd appeared to already have given up hope. Well not him. Seth Sorenson was not going to give up on his sister.

Bracken opened his eyes. Sitting up, he leaned over and gently took the map from Seth.

"There are two places I think she might be being held. Two places that are obvious. Seth, listen to me." Bracken commanded the reluctant gaze of the boy. "I know you blame yourself for leading us to Venezuela. But do you honestly think that your grandfather went solely on your word?"

"What are you saying?" Seth crinkled his forehead.

"I'm saying that there are two notorious places here in Venezuela, in this very jungle. Neither are well known. They are the true reason we believed you when you said the Society might be here."

"So you lied to me?"

"We kept information from you, as you did from us. Though I can't see the point in keeping you out of the know any longer, considering what dire straits we are in. Anyhow, you've already admitted to your deception."

"Right." Seth mumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly. He cleared his throat. "So we were never really scouring the jungle?"

"No, we are truly trying to search every inch of this place. For several reasons. First off, we needed to know more about the surrounding area, in case we needed to call for back up. Second, even if one – possibly both – of these places are housing our enemies, the entrance could be disguised further away from it. Lastly, most importantly," Bracken lowered his voice absently, eyes darting from Seth to the map, "thing are hardly ever what they seem."

"Are Warren and Vanessa in the loop about this?" Seth was beyond embarrassed on being left out.

"Yes. Please understand Seth, this was entirely your grandfather's idea. The rest of us were hesitant to go along with his plan, but he was quite keen on teaching you a lesson. He loves you very much – he only wants you to become the man he knows you have the potential to be. 'Not a seasoned adventurer, but a good, honest person.' Those were his words."

The speech did little to mend Seth's broken pride. In fact, he felt worse. He was such a failure.

"So what are these two super-evil places called?" His voice cracked a little when he spoke. This just kept getting better and better.

"One is the Sand Dunes of Beelzebub – the used to be home of a score of demons."

Seth craned his neck back to see Warren and Vanessa standing behind him. It was Warren who had spoken.

"That's here," Bracken pointed to crudely drawn hills on the map. "to the northwestern edge of the jungle."

"Isn't it a used to be home of demons? Why would the Society be there?"

"There is a fell air about the place." Vanessa answered. "The land is inhospitable. No living creatures have taken up residence there in centuries."

"The perfect place for the Society to hide. They would be in plain sight, where nobody would think to look for them." Warren clarified.

"More than likely the location where they're holding Kendra." Bracken sighed.

Seth eyed the map. "What about the other place?"

"I don't think any of the members of the Society have that much of death wish." Bracken snorted.

"Do not forget the legend. Nor what evil that dark abode has birthed." Vanessa warned.

Seth didn't like her tone of voice. "What are you talking about?"

"There is a legend," she said, "that before Celebrant, there was another king of the dragons. That much we can almost be sure is true. But the speculation lies in what happened to this king. Some say Celebrant killed him battle. Others say he was as old as the beginning of time, and died a long ago from age. Others still, think that Patton Burgess destroyed the monster in the wild, but the horror of the encounter was so overwhelming that Patton never spoke of it again."

"The most far-fetched by far." Bracken interjected.

Warren nodded. Vanessa continued.

"The eldest allies of the Knights claim that there is a prison, no longer used by them, that once housed all of the draconic race's most insidious foes."

"If that's true," Vanessa chimed in, "then nobody in the Knights would have released such dangerous dragons. We would assume that this prison still houses those criminals."

"Unless the Society has released them…" Warren started.

Vanessa turned on him. "I think we would know…"

Bracken 'ahemed' and she quit talking. He continued. "Legend has it that the first dragon king was first inmate of this prison, placed there by Sairon Mirima, a wizard who has passed into legend himself."

"I knew Sairon Mirima." Bracken said. "He was legendary, but he was real. The power the exuded from him was unlike any I've ever seen since, except in my mother and father. Yet he was amazingly humble – wise, unobtrusive, a little eccentric." Bracken smiled at a fond memory. The smile faded. "He did so many favors for mankind, though few even know of his past existence. His death was mysterious and tragic. Navarog," Seth froze, "was said to have been responsible for his death."

Seth swallowed hard. "Why did Navarog kill him?"

Bracken shook his head. "The Sphinx is the one who captured him," He pointed to a sketch of a waterfall, "supposedly here at these falls. The Sphinx was reputable even then, and many had plenty of reasons to hate the honorary demon prince, so no one questioned him when he announced Navarog's guilt. This is how Navarog ended up in the Quiet Box."

"If they both weren't dead I'd kill them myself." Warren shook his fists at the heavens. Vanessa took his raised fist in her hand. She unfurled his fingers, and quietly held his hand.

"Be grateful that they're gone." Bracken said.

"So," Seth's rubbed his temples, his brain rigorously working to puzzle out this information, "what does Navarog and the falls have to do with the dragon prison?"

"We think that the dragon prison is behind the falls."

There it was. "Okay, but Navarog is as dead as my love life. Why would the Society hang out in a prison?"

"Again, it's incredulous enough that we could expect the Society to be there." Vanessa said.

"It's too risky. The Society wouldn't know what powers they were contending with. I'm sure it's been on their agenda to release the 'wrongfully imprisoned' dragons for some time, but I don't think they would set up camp in such an unstable environment." Bracken argued.

Warren nodded his head in agreement, then added. "If the prison even exists."

"Oh I'm fairly certain it's there." Bracken pinched the bridge of his nose. "My mother has mentioned such a place before. It's always been kept a bigger secret than five preserves. If the Society released these prisoners the effect on the world could rival that if they released the demons in the Zzzyx."

"Which is why we should try looking for Kendra there first." Vanessa's tone had the quality of rhetoric. "Take it from a former Society member. I've never heard of this prison until now, but completely fits their m-o."

"The environment would be too unpredictable." Seth noticed that even though they were arguing, they still held firm grips on the other's hand.

Seth considered the two places on the map. The Dunes were to the northwest of their current position. The Falls were to the northeast. It was going to have to be one or the other.

What was his opinion? Neither sounded appealing to him. There were no facts to go off of – merely speculation. It looked like a go with your gut kind of situation. His gut told him one thing, but his head told him another. His head begged him to listen to reason. He could almost hear Kendra scolding him, telling him that he'd been going with his gut lately, and look where it had landed him?

Seth looked at his companions. "I think I'm with Bracken and Warren on this one Vanessa."

The three some studied his alteration in composure. "We should head straight through the jungle as far as we can, and then veer left to the Dunes. If Kendra is being held at the falls, perhaps we'll find some indication of dragons nearby. If not, we head for the Dunes."

Vanessa bit her lip. She turned her face from them.

"De pilo pendet." She whispered.

Bracken echoed her in a hollow voice, "It hangs by a hair."


	11. Chapter 11: Cassette Player sans Tape

**Another year of school is starting. There are innumerable mixed feelings on my part, as I'm sure there are on the part of each of you as well. I will not be able to post as much as I would like, as much of my free time will now be consumed by the greedy monster known as A.P. I will continue to work on and post chapters as often as I can. The chapter I've been {im}patiently waiting to write is upcoming in the next couple of chapters, so I will most likely crank these others out fairly quickly in order to get to it.**

**NicoleDaughterOfPoseiden: It's a little of both. I know that's vague, but that's all I feel comfortable revealing right now.**

**Disclaimer: For the umpteenth time, Brandon Mull owns the rights to Fablehaven.**

* * *

The Cursed watched the girl, who in turn watched him. They'd been watching each other for a time. Earlier, she had spoken to him in complete jibberish; then again, in jibberish that sounded faintly familiar. After a while, she'd given up on verbal communication, and had handed him a set of clothes from the wardrobe.

The Cursed had forgotten the feel of cloth against skin. He disliked it. Found it restrictive. He no longer understood propriety. He wanted to go without the stiff fabric, but the girl had seemed more comfortable when he had the exotic garments on. So he suffered through.

The girl appeared to be trying to make up her mind with what to do with him. The Cursed wished for her to trust him, though he could not have said so plainly. In his mind, she thought him a potential threat, and he wished for her to think otherwise. How?

The Cursed had an idea.

Up he jumped from his spot on the floor, where he'd been sitting like a tree frog, startling the girl. As he approached her, surprise turned to wariness. Stopping at the edge of her bed, he reached out his dirty hand. She flinched, her gaze wandering uncertainly around the room. The Cursed thrust his palm closer to her, causing her to draw back.

He nodded at her, showing her it was okay. He would never harm her. He made his eyes go from her hand to his hand, expressing his intention.

A light dawned in her mossy green irises – in such a way that made her look more like his deceased daughter than ever before. The Cursed shivered. Sympathy drew deep creases on the girl's forehead.

Timid as a newly hatched bird, she laid her hand on top of his. He closed his leathery skin around her hand and shook it up and down. He feared she still may not understand him, but he had remember the form of greeting from his old village.

The girl smiled in surprise. The Cursed felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. She understood he was there to help her.

The girl tightened her grip, shaking his hand back with confidence. She laughed, a bubbly joyous sound. It was like the sound of fresh water to a man dying in the desert. Without the Cursed fully knowing it, a piece of his soul retracted back into its right place. He had seen the bird unfurl her wings.

It is prudent to add a note that the Cursed was so used to the wild, so unused to intelligence, that his mind made connections to the former help him understand the latter. From then on he thought of the girl simply as the Bird.

He smiled back at her, shaking her hand with increased fervor. The Bird laughed harder, her free hand flying to her mouth.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Kendra had convinced herself that the Cursed posed no threat. Now what she was to do with him – that was another matter.

"So you're the Cursed." Kendra said thoughtfully. "That's either your name," Kendra hated to think of a mother who would so strongly dislike her child as to name him that, "or you're cursed. If you're cursed, why are you cursed? Who cursed you? What is the curse?" Kendra pondered these things aloud, but did not expect the dwarf to answer her. Apparently the only words he knew were "los malditos".

The dirty dwarf was exploring the cabin. Kendra couldn't help smiling at his childish fascination with the faucet. He looked absolutely ridiculous in his oversized Hawaiian shirt and baggy khaki cargo shorts. She supposed she should be wary of someone who seemed to refer to themselves as the Cursed, but that was hard when that someone was so affable.

"The Cursed." The dwarf looked up at her, still grinning widely for no apparent reason.

_This guy is the personification of cheerfulness. _It was times like these that Kendra was sure that Imaginary Seth was her conscience and not her brother communicating with her telepathically. Seth couldn't have identified a literary device if one had jumped off of the page and slapped him across the face.

Needless to say, Kendra didn't find the thought of calling her new friend the Cursed. She needed to call him something.

"How about T.C.?" Kendra asked him. 'T.C.' nodded his consent, like he did with everything Kendra said. Kendra half smiled in amusement. "Well that settles it then. T.C." Kendra pointed at him.

"Los Malditos." He replied good naturedly.

"We'll work on it." Kendra assured him.

T.C. dropped to the floor slowly. He looked under her bed. He made a loud noise, a combination of a gasp and an exclamation. Kendra jumped over to the opposite side.

"What is it?" She leaned over the edge. T.C. popped up, and in his hands Kendra was utterly shocked to see a radio.

Kendra had checked under the bed before, hadn't she? Yes, she was certain she had. The radio had not been there then. Where had it come from? Was it a trick of Gavin's - or was it possibly the work of the wizard? Something Gavin had missed?

Kendra felt a little lighter. Not that a radio was extremely helpful to her situation, yet if the object had indeed slipped Gavin's notice - well, it was not a chink in his armor (in so many words), but it was _something_.

"Can I see it?" She asked, holding out her hands.

T.C. understood her intention. He carefully placed the radio in her hands, and went back to exploring the room. Kendra inspected the treasure.

It appeared to battery powered, no cord. She wouldn't think it worked except that the digital clock showed her the time. It read half past nine. Kendra had lost sense of time since she'd been held in captivity, and for all she knew it was half past nine. But it didn't show AM or PM.

The radio was medium sized, black, an older model of the C.D. player, which had no plug in for an auxiliary device, and still had a front pocket for cassette tapes. Kendra opened the cassette tape player and C.D. player but could find no medium for music. She looked under her bed, but found no other oddities. Disappointed, she went to tuck the radio back under the bed to find T.C.'s feet were in her way. Kendra looked up.

T.C. was still beaming, but the brightness was a little diffused by the concern in his eyes. Without a word, he lightly took the radio from Kendra's hands. Kendra followed him with her eyes, as he walked over to the counter where the sink was, and put the radio to the left of it.

Kendra sighed. "Okay T.C. you can keep it out. I guess Gavin already knows it's here anyway."

Gavin. What was she going to do about T.C. when Gavin came down to her again?

Kendra sat back up. "What am I going to do with you?" She pondered.

T.C. came over and stood in front of her. Kendra shrugged her shoulders. She needed to communicate with him in some way.

"You," Kendra pointed at him, (here T.C. nodded and said 'los malditos' several times) "need to hide." Kendra made like she was getting under the bed, gesturing to him, making motions like a box, hiding her face with her hands.

T.C. considered her with laughter in his eyes. He failed to indicate that he understood a word she was saying. Kendra gave up with a frustrated huff.

T.C. took a step back. He opened his arms wide. "Los maliditos." He said softly.

Kendra blinked. Her friend was gone.

Where T.C. had stood, there was a pile of clothes on the floor. Above that was a small brown bat hovering in the air. The bat flew up to Kendra's face. Beady black eyes regarded her with a profound ruefulness.

Understanding dawned on Kendra. "Oh, T.C."

She knew he wasn't a traditional vampire (for that matter, she didn't think he was a blix) because earlier he'd eagerly consumed some cold jerky from her mini-fridge. The dwarf was somehow cursed by being able to shape-shift into a bat.

T.C. changed back into himself. He was faster at it than Gavin. Kendra didn't even have time to register how he'd done it.

Kendra politely turned her face away while he put his clothes back on.

_If he decides to put them back on_, Imaginary Seth laughed lightly. Kendra adamantly hoped he would. Once she had given him ample opportunity to get dressed, she turned back around.

He was once again grinning like a fiend.

"Well that will come in handy." Kendra allowed, deliberating how to react. She closed her eyes to collect her thoughts. "That must be how you came in without him noticing."

The dwarf paid her little heed. He meandered aimlessly about the room, resuming his inspection of the cabin. Kendra contemplated the conundrum her companion posed. T.C.'s ability could help her find a way out of there. She'd need help though.

_You would need an army! Maybe there's others like him. He could go rally his army of bats to come rescue you. Maybe you could get carried out of here on the backs of a thousand vampiric dwarves. That would be so awesome! _

If there were others like T.C. wouldn't he have tried to speak to Kendra? Well, T.C. didn't speak, but still. It was just that, T.C. didn't strike her as a typically social creature.

No. Kendra suspected that he was her sole resource. It would be up to the two of them to get themselves out of the mess they were in. If only she could connect with him! She could convey the urgency of her situation, and ask for his help.

T.C. fumbled through the cabinets next in the kitchenette.

"Hmph!" She heard him grunt. Kendra watched him procure a dirty sheet of printer paper and a dusty pen. The fire flared in Kendra's soul.

"T.C! You are brilliant!" Kendra ran over to her dwarf friend, took the paper and pen from his hand and used the wall to begin writing.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The Cursed closely watched the girl scribble on the paper. He had a bout of wariness succumb him. What the girl was doing, mumbling to herself and making a combination of smooth and short strokes, was suspicious in the Cursed's eyes. Only practitioners of enchantment - medicinal men, witches, shamans - were capable of drawing speech. They used these written languages to remember spells.

Surely the girl was not a witch? The Cursed felt his brain getting scrambled. All of these thoughts, reason mixed with memory, sprinkled with the dusty traces of prejudice. His daughter the innocent, his angelic child, morphed into the witch, the vile deviless. He leaned, clutching his sides, struggling to maintain control. Tears pooled in his eyes. A low whine escaped his lips.

The girl stopped writing. She was speaking in low pressing tremors to him; her small hands were rested on his shoulders. He looked into his daughter's eyes.

His breathing deepened. His shoulders fell. A solitary notion raised up clearly out of the fathoms of his mind. Redemption.

His smile returned to his face. Though it was forced, he could see it gave the girl relief. The Cursed had been easily distracted by the odds and ends of her room, forgetting that it was indeed a cage. He would do better from now on.

He would pay attention. He would be useful.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

T.C. had given Kendra quite the scare. She had been putting the finishing touches on her letter, writing her grandparents and her brother's contact information (she'd decided to go with Spanish because T.C. had made her think it might be the common tongue of the area), when T.C. took a turn for the worse. He was sweating, wheezing, moaning, short of breathe, his knobby knees shaking violently. Kendra, alarmed, had thought him ill.

"T.C.? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is it that curse?" She asked, putting her hands on his shoulders to steady him.

T.C. looked into Kendra's eyes, and her questions died on the tip of her tongue. In one way he looked at her with a sort of pleading. In another way, he looked her with disgust and mistrust. If asked to explain how these two contrasting emotional states could inhabit one being so fiercely all at once, she could not have said. Nonetheless, there was doubt that either set was present in her newly found friend.

T.C. searched Kendra's eyes. She didn't dare speak. Since meeting him, Kendra had felt wary of him, then as though he was harmless. Now, she was somewhat frightened. He was obviously far stronger than she was. She felt if she provoked him he could crush her in an instant.

T.C. did not harm Kendra. In fact, the strange fit was over in instant. He recovered his jovial smile and the radiant glint returned to his eyes. Kendra stared at him for bit, trying to make something of what had happened. T.C. seemed so happy again, it was almost as though she'd imagined the episode.

_Maybe he's Bipolar. A vampiric, albino, indian, bipolar dwarf. _

There were so many things wrong with that analysis, that Kendra didn't even know where to begin.

Kendra considered if she should truly be placing what may be her one lifeline to the outside world in such volatile hands. What other choice did she have?

None.

"Okay T.C." Kendra addressed him, though he was still staring at her. "Me." She poked her own chest. "This is me." She held up her thumb, gesturing back and forth several times. T.C. did not nod. He did not smile, so much as he did grimace. But his eyes betrayed a keen interest in her show.

"Trapped." Kendra enclosed her thumb behind her fingers. "Trapped." She repeated.

"You." Kendra pointed at T.C. "Los Malditos." His eyebrows raised. Kendra twisted her fingers on her other hand to look like a bat. She placed it next to the Kendra-thumb in the finger-cage. "You fly away from me." Demonstrated thusly. She repositioned the Kendra cage to a free standing thumb. "Get help." She enacted the bat hand dragging the thumb then made the Kendra in the finger cage reappear.

She repeated this several times, in both English and Spanish, until T.C. began to nod as though he understood. Of course, T.C. nodded almost every time Kendra spoke, so there was a distinct possibility he hadn't the slightest notion of what she was trying to convey. "Here." Kendra folded the paper and tried to hand it to T.C, but he shook his head no, drawing back his hands.

Kendra blinked. T.C. bat version flapped mid-air in front of Kendra's face. Kendra, understanding, rolled the folded note. She looked around for something that she could use to tie the paper with. Seeing nothing, she pulled three strands of her hair out of her head, with a slight yelp. She twisted them together.

Carefully, she tied the paper, as tight as she dared, to one of T.C.'s furry little feet.

"There." She said pulling back. "I'm done." She bit her bottom lip. "I hope you know what you're doing. You may never come back, I suppose. Well, regardless, I'm glad to have met you T.C. You've been good company. I hope we see each other soon." She reached out her pointer finger slowly. T.C. did not flinch as she gently stroked his back. He waited until she was done.

Kendra went up the stairs, clenching her teeth with the cacophony that sounded off as she ascended. She opened the lid using the technique she had discovered previously. Sairon Mirmia's emergency escape.

The entrance to the cabin opened quietly. T.C. darted out with the swiftness of a pint-sized, resolute bird. Kendra closed the lid with a prayer that nothing ill-fated would happen to her messenger. Most of all, she prayed he would fulfill his mission.


	12. Chapter 12: Drip

**As in a few chapters back, there is a reference to the book (it's really more of a short story) **_**The Mysterious Stranger**_**,**** by Mark Twain, in this chapter. I recommend it to each of you as it's highly thought provoking. **

**This chapter is uber short. Insert grimace here. **

**Shout-out to my editor in chief Meowki. She's awesome sauce. **

**Disclaimer: I will claim T.C. That's about it. Brandon Mull owns all!**

* * *

Drip.

The stagnant underground river was unbearable to all the residents of the prison.

Drip.

It was the excess of several hot springs.

Drip.

Dragons in their natural form emitted waves of heat, so that any time a number of them were clustered near the enclosed space of the cave that hosted the broadest portion of the river, their combined body heat mixed with the humidity of the river produced a sort of sauna.

Drip.

Misery in the dark, damp earth is undesirable. Misery in the dark, steaming earth is intolerable. Consequently, the inmates avoided the area.

Drip.

This is where and why the Father of all Hatchlings chose to relocate to the bowels of the caverns.

Condensation formed on the roof of the cave, which sweated inconsistently off of the stalactites. Gavin found this beyond irritating. The First King claimed it was a tune that added to the ambiance of his archaic home.

Drip.

Gavin _really _could not stand the reverberation. He would never say so to his Master – firstly because he did not ever dare to inspire a point of contention between himself and his better. Secondly, because his verbal dislike of the noise would simply serve to increase his Master's enjoyment of the irksome sound.

Even now, as he drew further away from it, he could hear it as well as he could when he was directly under the stalactites. There was a possibility that his Master knew of his vexation with the unmelodiousness of the dripping, that he had cast a small spell that caused Gavin to hear it with clarity at all times.

The acrimony of the thought struck Gavin. Was he agitated with his Master? Of course not. Never. His Master had no faults; even his shortcomings Gavin had always opted to overlook out of respect for his king.

Besides, his Master had not informed him of anything other than the time and date for what Gavin had already known was going to transpire.

He had known it would have to be sooner rather than later. His ability to remain in the land of the living depended on it. However, he had hoped it would be somewhat later.

In explanation of the peculiar emotion that was trying to breach the surface of Gavin's disposition, Gavin wrote it off as regret. He had wanted a little more time for Kendra to undergo Stockholm syndrome. A twisted half smile broke out on his face at a mental picture of Kendra submitting before him.

Gradually, the smile faded into a frown.

Forty-eight hours was hardly enough to break such an impetuous girl.

As Gavin headed back up to his lair, with an unusually acute awareness of himself and the setting, he noticed his footfalls were landing heavily against the roughly hewn stairs. Dragging, hesitating, as though he were weighed down by a colossal encumbrance.

Drip, drip.

Gavin muttered a harsh stream of curses. He had to be about a hundred yards away from his Master's abode! Gavin honed in on his musings, covering his ears with his hands like a small child to muffle the dissonance.

Forty-eight hours until Kendra was forthwith bound to him. Gavin did not fully comprehend the particulars of the process. The basics were fairly ingenuous. He would bring Kendra to his Master's home; the ceremony would be performed, Kendra would be made a part of him, and vice versa, and he, Gavin, would thence be a permanent fixture in life.

Gavin stopped to lean against the wall, surprisingly short of breath. He felt his body, though his Master had commanded it to be an older, stronger form than he had previously had, was more unruly than it had been in the past. At least he thought so anyway. His Master had also commanded his memories back to him, his 'spirit', but sometimes Gavin found it harder to remember than others. His last few days at Wyrmroost were plainly affixed in his mind.

Kendra's calling him Navarog had made his head hurt for reasons unknown. That is why he made her refer to him as his alias, Gavin Rose. The name Gavin seemed more natural. This went against all logic. The subservient dragon could not puzzle this phenomenon out – and he had spent many hours trying too.

He had feigned having no trouble recalling his history to Kendra, though in truth the throbbing of his temples, the pulsating of his cranium, he was sure had been audible. The words that poured forth from his lips were automatic, but the images of the past were blurry and veiled with shadow. He had smirked when he thought he should, inserting an exclamation when he ought to have felt indignant, put on at appearing indifferent when the situation being retold caused Kendra to watch him carefully for any betrayal of emotion.

He had faltered only when he came to the part of his death. Still, he had recovered quickly. Based on her reaction, she had been to absorbed in his tale to see how much his recent encounter with the other side disturbed him.

His breathing was shallow. Initially, Satan had contrived the desirable level of detachment in Gavin. With each passing day, that detachment waned. Several hours ago – had it been days now? It was so hard to keep track of time in the hell hole he lived in – when Gavin had argued with Kendra, he had been struck by an epiphany.

In his mind there was a black hole. Like all other black holes in the cosmos, little by little it drew in that which strayed too close to its mouth. Gavin did not stray to close. He avoided the black hole always. He did not want to be slowly ripped apart, as time stood still, atom by atom, till he truly was nothing but a vagrant thought.

Gavin inhaled deeply, in attempt to regulate his respiration. He perspiring down his sides.

He should have bathed in the river. He scolded himself. He had left too soon. His Master would suspect him of bebotherment. Should he return? No, that would be even more suspicious.

Gavin peeled himself off the cold hard wall. He would go out. He would bathe at the base of the falls. He would hunt in the jungle. He would make a day out of his excursion.

Then he would return to retrieve Kendra. He would stay with her until the night came.

He hurried up the stairs until he reached the foyer of his home.

Gavin morphed into his dragon form, feeling fully the release of that soft-skinned cage. In his natural form he felt more right with the world. Taking flight, the cool caress of the wind against his warm scaly body, Gavin made himself forget his worries. Right then, he just wanted to be a wild untamable predator, a mighty dragon, top of the food chain, at liberty to do as he pleased in the abundant wilderness.


	13. Chapter 13: TC Remebers a Word

**Disclaimer: Brandon Mull owns the world(s) of Fablehaven.**

* * *

Each time he put his foot down, Seth managed to succeed in inserting another brier into his leg.

Number 2,365 (and counting). He pulled it out using the tips of his finger nails in place of tweezers. Seth cursed loudly, looking at the speckled mess of his calves. He was past looking like he'd come down with a bad case of the chicken pox – now he was getting to the 'my-leg-resembles-an elongated-piece-of-watermelon' phase.

They had reached the densest part of the jungle. Green above, and green below. The underbrush was choking the necks of the trees. The leaves piled up ankle deep in some places, concealing hidden mud puddles, and a variety of vermin. Mud squished under their tired feet. Though a few rays of hazy gray light shone through the leaves in patches along the path (what path there was), no breeze could break through the dense forest. In the daytime, it was humid. At night, it was drafty.

They'd slept only five hours after walking most of the night. At daybreak, Warren passed around the tin pomade can he had filled with walrus butter for those who needed it to see past their human handicap to the magical creatures of the world.

"Is that a bat? Out in broad daylight?" Vanessa squinted up at the somber resplendence that seeped through the leafen roof, using her hand as visor.

Seth and the others stopped in their tracks, looking up to see this portent. A small black shadow flew just below the canopy of the jungle.

"So it would seem." Bracken replied, dropping his hand and continuing past the spectators. Seth watched him with a furred brow. Bracken wore a deep scowl, which was completely out of character for Mr. Sunshine-fairy-unicorn-boy. Seth assumed if he looked at a mirror he would probably look the same. They'd been walking for a little over twenty hours. No sign of dragons or the Society or Kendra. They were just about to the point where they were going to fork off their trail to the Dunes.

Warren and Vanessa remained staring at the strange spectacle of the time confused animal.

"I think," Warren squinted, blinking several times, "Um, I think it's coming at us."

"No, it's just flying around." Seth said, upon observing the creature.

"I think it's coming our way. What is that? Is there something dangling from its leg?"

"It looks like a piece of paper."

"Ten to one its litter. Happens to animals all the time. Trust me, I watch the NatGeo channel. It's like how the penguins get stuck in that plastic stuff that holds together mini sodas from the grocery store."

"It doesn't look like litter. It looks like a rolled up piece of paper."

The carpet of leaves rustled. Bracken had whirled around, anger written plainly on his face.

"Who cares what the thing is doing? What's more, who cares what the thing has attached to itself. In the name of the Queen, it's a _bat_. Would you all like to take your photos to submit to National Geographic," It must be noted that Bracken had become fascinated with the human periodical in recent years, "alongside an article about the evils of human pollution or shall we move on to find Kendra, our imprisoned friend?"

Seth looked down at the ground guiltily. Bracken was right to be frustrated with them. Time, for all they knew, was running out for Kendra. Each moment spent dallied, was perhaps one of her last alive.

Seth shuddered at the thought.

Warren too was look dejected at the rebuff, but Vanessa was unperturbed. She resolutely kept her eyes on the bat.

"It is drawing nearer. There is a paper attached to its right foot." She announced.

"Vanessa, I think we ought to keep going." Seth said.

"Hun…" Warren spoke softly. It was a suggestion, a gentle tug.

Vanessa sucked in. The bat flew down from above, making a beeline for her face. She held her breath as the creature stopped short to hover inches away from her face.

It flew around in a circle around her head. Whatever was holding the paper to its foot, came undone, causing the paper to fall to the ground at Vanessa's feet. When this happened, it stopped to face Vanessa again.

Seth could not have explained why he was filled with anxiety, pursing his lips, and clenching his hands. What was the bat going to do – poop on her? Bite her? Screech at her?

The bat used its wings to project itself further backward.

Seth blinked. The bat was gone. He would have looked around to see where it went, but what was now in front of him held him dumbstruck.

It was a naked paleish-dwarf-man thing. _He_, Seth corrected himself mentally. That the dwarf-man was male was painfully obvious. Seth scanned the reactions of his companions.

Vanessa's eyes were wide with shock, a slight blush in her cheeks. Warren had the gall to actually be suppressing laughter. Seth guessed the astonishment of the situation had turned into hilarity for him. Bracken appeared unmoved, excepting a slight quirk upward in his brow.

The dwarf-man grinned recklessly at them all. He locked gazes with each in turn. Then his eyes came upon the dropped letter. Bending down, he picked up the letter, and held it out to Vanessa.

Catiously, Vanessa took it. She unrolled and unfolded the paper. Quickly her eyes scanned over the contents. A small gasp escaped her.

Her eyes flicked up to the dwarf. Then back to the paper. Keeping her eyes, on the dwarf Vanessa soundlessly handed the letter to her husband.

He read it. Seth noticed there was a tremble to his hand.

"I can't take it!" he whined. "What is it? Who is it from?"

"I'll read it out loud. It's written in Spanish, but I'll just translate." Warren cleared his throat. He tried to begin, "Dear-" His voice cracked. Breathing deeply through his nose, readjusting his posture, he began again.

"Dear Reader –

My name is Kendra Sorenson.

I have been abducted.

The messenger is my friend, T.C. He's a little crazy, but harmless I think.

T.C. can't tell you anything. He doesn't speak English. Or anything, really.

Please, DO NOT contact the police.

Please contact my family.

Tell them, I am alive, but I am in grave danger.

Tell them, the Society took me for an eternal purpose.

And tell them my captor's name is Gavin."

"The rest is the contact information for Fablehaven."

Seth's mouth had gone dry.

The dwarf spread his arms above his head, and shouted, happily "Los Malditos!"

"Huh?" Seth looked sideways at Vanessa.

"It's Spanish for the cursed."

"The Cursed. T.C." Warren tapped his temple. "I wonder if it's a joke, or if this guy is really cursed."

"Kendra said he was harmless." Seth reminded him.

"And crazy." Seth was startled to see Bracken had come to stand right next to him.

"Maybe crazy means eccentric." Seth eyed their new companion a little doubtfully. "You know, instead of _crazy_."

"Probably not."

"Gavin." Vanessa rubbed her forehead. "He is – was – dead. Raxtus _ate_ him. You don't exactly bounce back from that."

"I've survived being eaten." Seth interjected with a shrug.

Vanessa shot him a contemptuous glance. "Those were beyond extraordinary circumstances."

"Maybe he's a stingbulb." Warren offered.

"That's a possibility." Bracken murmured. "Kendra doesn't specify."

"She may not have had much time."

"Or paper."

"I'm not criticizing Kendra!" Bracken snapped. He lapsed into deep thought.

Seth considered the naked dwarf, the cogs of his brain slowly clinking to life.

It hit him.

"Guys, if Kendra was kidnapped by Gavin, she's probably not at the Dunes."

They all blanched. "You're right," Bracken whispered. "She's probably going to be at the Falls."

"We were on the verge of making an enormous mistake. We almost destroyed any chance of Kendra ever being able to escape."

Seth heard the ocean in his ears. He blinked several times.

"I knew it." He condemned himself aloud. "I felt that it was right to go to the Falls. But I sided with Bracken and Warren, because my gut always gets me in trouble. My first impulse is always wrong. Wow." His mouth tasted bitter to him. "When I think I'm right, I'm wrong, and when I think I'm wrong, I'm right."

"There's a way of saying that…." Warren left the sentence open-ended, smiling half-heartedly.

"An eternal purpose." Vanessa echoed, supposedly to herself. "Code for…"

"The Eternals. She kept it vague so as not to arouse suspicion about our world." Warren looked at the letter admiringly.

Bracken rubbed his neck beneath his hair. "Which means our suspicions were correct. The newest head of the Society is trying its hand at destroying the Eternals."

"We need to move."

"First, I need to write to Stan to tell him what we've learned." Bracken flinched but did not look at Vanessa.

"Be quick." Her husband commissioned her.

"I will." She promised, walking away from them. Presumably to get away from Bracken's searing, judgmental gaze.

"So," Seth said turning to the dwarf-man "You no spreckenza the eng-lay-s?"

"Los Malditos." The dwarf man said with a shake of his hips.

Seth grimaced at the sight. "¿Hablas español?"

"Los Malditos." He repeated emphatically.

Seth turned to Warren. "I think I liked him better as a bat."

"It's strange that his features resemble an indigenous origin, but he's so pale. I wonder why he's called The Cursed."

"Maybe his Mother never loved him." Seth suggested.

Warren tried to smile at Seth, but failed. He looked back at the dwarf.

"What happened to him?"

Seth saw that T.C.'s expression had changed. He no longer looked amiable. He looked distressed. He kept swatting to his head, and making gargling noises. For several minutes he seemed tormented by some great inward struggle.

He fought to choke out, hoarsely, "Hija."

The effort of remembering the word for daughter, had made T.C. double over with pain; yet the dwarf was commencing to grin once more.

"Hija." He insisted. Then to himself, triumphantly, "Hija.".

"And that means...?" Seth asked Warren.

"Daughter." Warren looked around. There was nobody but them and Bracken, who was still lost in thought.

"Does he think Vanessa is his daughter?" Seth asked incredulously.

"No." Warren looked sideways at the dwarf.

"I mean, I don't think so." He shook his head. "Why would he say it now after she's left?"

"Maybe he's asking for her?"

Warren shook his head again.

Bracken spoke up. "This man is extremely old. Far older than you would guess. He has the air of immortality. There is more to him than meets the eye."

"I do not suspect he was created for such a long life. Dwarves nearly have the same life expectancy as humans. They're mortal by birth. His condition may have to do with his curse." Bracken said thoughtfully.

"Significant preparation for the trails of prolonged life is required for mortals who are granted it. As Eternals, you all would have to go through something of the sort. Training, if you will. I doubt this man went through such a thing. He is most likely insane, his brain decayed though his body is perfectly intact. Conceptual thinking would beyond him. Associative thinking, not 'this _because_ this' but 'this _like_ this', is more than likely how he functions. In short, it's possible that he thinks Kendra is his daughter."

"Kendra? Why would he think my sister is his daughter?" Seth regarded the dwarf questionably. "They look _nothing_ alike."

"That's true, but you have no idea what his wife (assuming he had one at somepoint) looked like. Kendra could resemble his offspring in only one feature, and to him the whole image of her would be distorted to bear a resemblance to his had been daughter. Think of looking a picture through warped glass. The picture may be a lovely painting, but through the glass it is a mess of color and shapes. If presented with child's artwork and the original piece, you might pick the artwork of the child over the masterpiece, simply because you never saw the picture as it truly was."

"Phhhheeeewwwooop." Seth made out like an airplane was flying over his head.

Warren and Bracken both ignored him. "That could be why he's helping her."

"My thoughts exactly."

At that moment Vanessa returned on the scene.

"Stan said that we should proceed forward with caution. He distrusts this mention of Gavin, though he is sure there is a logical explanation to be found. He'll be looking into it. I myself am less optimistic. We do not know a lot about this new Master."

"Are you suggesting what I think you are?" Bracken asked sharply.

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. We'll see when we get there." Vanessa shrugged. "Stan agreed with me that we should make for the Falls instead of the Dunes. We could make it there by nightfall, if we speed up the pace."

"We will run if necessary." Bracken vowed.

"Los Malditos!"

The dwarf's interruption halted conversation briefly.

"What do we with Tarzan?" Seth wondered.

"We bring him with us of course. He may be able to help lead us to Kendra." This from Bracken.

Warren eyed him speculatively. "So if we start going he's just going to follow?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Seth you're in charge of keeping up with him." Vanessa put her hands on her hips.

"Me?!" Seth groaned. "Why me?"

"Because he's your sister's friend."

"Just think man," Warren chuckled, "Kendra will be on your case if you lose her helpless, senile friend out in the wilderness. Then it'll be you who needs saving."

Seth crossed his arms. "Whatever. Fine." He pouted unhappily.

Bracken started out leading the group, veering slightly to the east.

Vanessa and Warren followed in turn.

"Well, come on then." Seth gestured for the dwarf to follow him. To his relief, the dwarf fell in line, trudging by Seth's side.

"Ouch!" Seth stopped. With a sigh he removed brier number 2,366. T.C. had not stopped for him. He jogged to catch back up.

If he could have justified screaming out in frustration, he would have yelled until he was blue in the face. Since they were increasing their pace, he wasn't going to have the leisure of being able to break for briers anymore. He was going to have to find a way to deal with it.

After a bit, Seth looked over at the dwarf. T.C. caught his eye, and grinned.

Seth knew it was useless, but he had to try. "Was my sister alright when you last saw her?"

"Los Malditos. Hija." His voice kind of hummed like the whir of old machinery.

"So I've heard." Seth mumbled sadly. "Well, I hope she is okay. I hope we get there in time."

The dwarf nodded like he understood Seth. "Los Malditos."

"And I don't care if it's a stingbulb or something weird, or even on the off chance that it is that no-good-dirty-back-stabbing jerk." Seth growled. "I'm going to beat him senseless, then knock him out. Then, when he wakes up, I'll do the same thing. That's how it will be every day for the rest of his miserable life." Seth shook his balled fist at the ground.

"Seth," Warren called back from up ahead. "What if Gavin were the actual Navarog?"

"Even if he was, I'd still do the same thing." Seth replied darkly, still looking down.

"Good to know - because he is."

"What?" Seth looked up just in time to stop short of running into the back of Vanessa.

"What's going on?" Seth accused.

Vanessa shushed him and pointed up.

Through a gap in the jungle ceiling the distant form of a midnight black dragon could be seen flying around low. The glimpse they caught of him was brief, but it was enough.

As soon as the monstrosity was out of sight, Bracken spoke. "I'm convinced."

"Second it." Seth breathed.

Navarog was alive. He was really, truly alive and well. Things just went from bad to worse. Not only were they going to have to battle a score of criminal dragons, and the leader of the Society of the Evening Star; they were also going to have to defeat an honorary demon prince, who, Seth was fairly certain, had more than enough reason to begrudge them all.

"I think…" Vanessa trailed off. Bracken almost imperceptibly shook his head. Warren didn't look as if he noticed, so Seth pretended like he hadn't seen anything either.

"I have a question." Warren turned to face his wife. "Why didn't Kendra say Navarog instead of Gavin? Wouldn't that have made it seem less like something other than the actual freaking dragon."

"She could have used his alias for the same reason she kept the letter so vague; to protect herself, and our world from discovery by the masses." She answered him.

"I hope that's why." Bracken muttered softly.

Warren hadn't heard him. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Bracken waved him off. "Conjecture, that's all. Let's keep moving."

"Okay T.C. ready to…" Seth looked around. "T.C? Hey, anybody seen the dwarf man?"

Vanessa clenched her jaw. "What? You lost him already?"

"I'm sorry I was distracted by the GIANT, EVIL, ZOMBIE dragon for a moment. The albino ape-man must have slipped my mind." Seth huffed.

"We can't waste time looking for him." Bracken trudged on.

Vanessa, hesitated, but soon followed after him.

Warren patted Seth on the shoulder. "He'll find us again. Probably when we least expect him."

Seth simply shrugged his shoulders. While he pace-walked in step with Warren his mind made a mental list of all his failures over the last few weeks. If he kept it up, he was going to win a medal for being the world's most incompetent hero of all time.

To make himself feel better he imagined himself punching Gavin's stupid face repeatedly. It's the simple things in life. Those are what keep us motivated.


	14. Chapter 14: Body and Soul

**So this chapter took a lot of time and consideration. I wanted to do it right (though there are undoubtedly changes I will continue to make, in addition to glaring mistakes that I've somehow, amazingly missed). At any rate, I apologize for the delay.**

**Disclaimer: Dear Mr. Mull, please don't sue me for using your wonderful world as a playground for my wildest fantasies. Thanks.**

* * *

The clouds had parted as if Someone on the Otherside had unzipped them right down the middle, causing the vaporous mists to form the shape a giant V. The end of the V pointed home.

Mauve skies offset the lilac hues in the low-set fluffy banks. The trees bent down under a mysterious dark weight. The discord of the jungle had subsided to a dissatisfying hum. Muses were prodding lonely hearts that evening. The world felt overwhelmingly maudlin. Time could not stop, so instead it lingered.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

In the cabin, there were exactly one hundred and three cracks in the walls.

There were precisely forty-five scratches on the four posters of the bed – when including the frame and headboard, the number grew to fifty-seven.

The wall color was most decidedly the particular shade of a Fablehaven sky on a mid-May afternoon.

The temperature was approximately fifty degrees – a nice setting for sleep, but still a hair too cool for consciousness.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The caverns had always been home. Although he had to be on his guard more often when he was there than when he was away, the tautness of his body never failed to relax when he crossed into his small, dark universe.

It wasn't that he was lost in thought. He was preoccupied with nothing in particular. He was late – he'd stayed out longer than he'd intended- and that should have bothered him. Only, it didn't.

He found his mind was startlingly blank.

To an outside observer, he would be described to have the look of one who is absent.

Gone from where, to where? Couldn't, wouldn't, purely the conviction that he shouldn't, think.

If he had been paying attention, he would have felt an invisible gripping sensation that seized him the moment he entered through the falls.

*.*.*.*.*.*

In that one-roomed hotel of no return, there was a solitary occupant. And that solitary occupant was absolutely tired of being alone.

There might have as well been a sign on the door, which read, in bold print "DO NOT DISTURB ON PAIN OF DEATH", because Kendra had seen no sign of life for a time out of mind. At least, that's how she felt.

Honestly, if the digital clock of the radio was to be believed, it had been a little over forty hours.

Without the awkward presence of T.C., the cabin felt emptier and less hospitable than it had previously. Kendra had not understood how much she enjoyed the company until the company was no longer available to her. Now it seemed as though some grave omnipresence was gradually swallowing her up.

Imaginary Seth hadn't spoken a word since T.C. had left. Kendra even tried to conjure up the image of her brother to see if it would elicit a reaction from her conscious. It didn't. She was on her own.

Valiantly, she attempted to keep up her morale by stimulating her mind with games of memorization.

First she made herself name every single capital of each of the one-hundred-ninety-six countries in the world – and then all fifty states. She tried reciting her favorite poems by less than famous authors and authoresses to herself. Always, she spoke aloud as if to banish the dreary heaviness of the silence.

Presently, Kendra had drug herself over to stand in front of the kitchenette counter. Pale streaks of dye were drying onto the chipped, white ceramic of the sink from where Kendra had washed her clothes earlier.

Kendra was wearing the ugly floral dress. The hem was made to be worn at the knee, but on Kendra it fell just below her knee cap.

The sleeves had fallen half-way down her biceps. Without thinking, she would occasionally pull one or both of the sleeves back onto her shoulders. In a few minutes, after she'd shifted her position, they defiantly fell back into place.

She had no brush, and her hair had taken a mind of its own. The golden mess twisted down her back, frizzed out in random splotches, curled obtusely in one or two places. Barefoot and disheveled, in her mind's eye Kendra pictured herself looking like a refugee of some devastating natural disaster.

Kendra eyed the radio. With the care of a person in awe of a priceless jewel, Kendra grazed her fingers over the black, plastic surface of the radio. The tip of her thumb brushed the silver channel changing knob. She frowned.

She hadn't yet switched the function of the radio to pick up broadcasts. Kendra didn't imagine it would amount to anything. She hadn't seen a radio tower when she'd come (though she hadn't been looking for one). The nearest broadcast tower was probably dozens of miles away.

The prospect of hearing something other than her own voice was to her like a starving prisoner who'd just been told there was a possibility that he might get to eat moldy bread.

Kendra reached down, and, using her forefinger, slid the piece over from "C.D" to "RADIO". She sucked her breath in.

Nothing. Not even the grainy noise of a weak signal, not even the whine of feedback.

Kendra felt an angry tear escape her eye. When was she going to get a break? Oh how she missed T.C!

Kendra felt a gentle tug on her shoulder.

Without thinking she whirled around, grinning broadly. T.C!

The grin quickly vanished.

No. Not T.C. Gavin.

He was still in the same clothes, though he seemed to be a little damp all over. Could have either been sweat or water. He didn't smell, so Kendra couldn't tell.

Luckily, he didn't notice her disappointment – lest he become suspicious. His gaze was intently locked on the radio.

His hand, which had lingered on her shoulder, fell down to the dial.

"Sairon Mirima had a fascination with novelties from the future." He spoke in a tone so low, which conveyed such an intense detachment, that Kendra wasn't sure he was even speaking to her. "He was the wizard who invented the chronometer. This place used to be full of all sorts of strange toys and funny knickknacks. My Master has most all of them now. Except for this one. This radio has spells placed on it, preventing it's removal from this abode. It appears and disappears, with no rhyme or reason that I can deduce."

"I've spent many hours in here playing with it. Since my master cannot have it, I spared him dissatisfaction by opting to not tell him of it."

A pause.

"It only picks up one station."

His forefinger and thumb twisted the knob, almost imperceptibly, to the right. Music flooded the room.

The singer was a female with a deep, grainy, tenuous voice that ensnared you like a siren's song. The music was a hushed whisper, cool and intimate. Kendra, teenage girl that she was, had never listened to this type of song, but knew somehow that it was jazz.

Gavin stood stock still, eyes half-closed, listening to the music. Kendra felt herself rocking back and forth to the tune.

His black eyes flashed up at her, catching the light in a peculiar way. His expression was listless when he spoke, "The radio won't plan any other music besides that of this one genre, this one artist." A pause. "Your people used to call it devil music you know. I can hardly disagree. Lady Day was an enchantress like no other."

Kendra hadn't the slightest idea who Lady Day was, but she did agree that the voice had an ethereal quality. She wasn't hearing the words specifically, but felt the subtle inflection of passion intoned by the voice.

They were close, she noticed. There was no indignation - only neutral impartiality. A detail. They both leaned loosely against the wall, as if too tired to do anything otherwise. They were so indifferent, they could have been strangers wandering the street of some vast city, who had both unintentionally stopped to listen to the same beguiling refrain.

Kendra wondered if she was dreaming. She couldn't remember falling asleep.

Gavin watched her objectively. The tempo of the song was slowing, signaling the end. After Lady Day sang the final note, there was a brief silent respite, then new music began.

This melody was a different flavor than its predecessor. It was faster paced, and of a stronger essence, determined instead of resigned.

Indolently, Gavin shrugged away from the wall. Kendra didn't jerk away when he grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers. If he had displayed any emotion that made this illusion crack, the glass precipice her sanity teetered on would have shattered. But she was dreaming - not a nightmare, a hazy reverie.

Gavin led her to the center of the room. Unceremoniously, he released her hand. He brushed her finger tips lightly with his in the transition – Kendra couldn't decide if had been on purpose or if it had been a mistake, but the gesture most decidedly sent a lovely little shiver up her spine.

He placed both of his rough palms on her waist. In turn, Kendra raised her arms to rest on his shoulders, clasping her fingers behind his neck. They swayed to the music, looking past each other, lost. With each step, they inexplicably drew nearer. Kendra was sure she hadn't picked up her feet. In dreams the phantoms can float.

Half-way through the song, the distance between them had closed. Kendra's arms had moved from his neck to his waist. Gavin's hands had wrapped all the way around her. Her head rested on his chest, and she felt that she might fall asleep standing up. She could feel Gavin's cheek on her crown.

Gavin spoke in a clam, even whisper - she could feel his lips on her scalp - "Do you despise me?"

Kendra could do nothing, but answer honestly. "Yes."

"Why?"

Kendra moved her face so she spoke into his chest. "You may as well ask me why I breathe."

She expected him to tense, to retort, to break through. His posture remained unconcerned, though the reply was delayed.

"Is it necessary?"

"Is it necessary to hold my breath underwater?"

Again, she waited.

Softly, he moved his lips down to the crest of her forehead. Never had he been so meek. The harsh edges where there, Kendra could feel them, but she couldn't see them. The gauzy veil between her and the moment prevented her from viewing properly.

She felt his chest heave with a terrible sigh. She couldn't say why it was terrible, just that it was. She longed to look up to see his face, but she didn't want to lose the pleasantly warm sensation of his lips on her cold skin.

"Very well." he spoke deferentially. "Misery mine, in this oxygen-less outer-rim."

Kendra winced. A chip cracked smoothly off of the glass, plummeting apathetically into the abyss.

Gavin abruptly pulled back. Were she capable of shock at this point, she would have been so struck by the expression on his face that she would have missed it. But because of her lack of interest, she noticed every element with hypersensitivity.

Gavin had worn many masks – pride, egotism, antipathy - Kendra had in the past thought she'd even seen some of the fear, the struggles, the secrets breach the surface. This was no flicker of light. This was such a candid countenance that Kendra knew she was seeing the honest truth of him. It was a blinding gray light that poured forth, cold, unchecked self-loathing, illuminating all the other features she only now understood.

Uncertainty creased his brow, slashing through the thick matter of epidermis to the bone. Exhaustion painted his pallor, taking care to fully discolor every inch. Dread pulled the skin around his eyes, forming little folds next to his eyes.

He looked frightful. Kendra, however, was not afraid. On the contrary, she was profoundly saddened. The kind of melancholy that extends beyond tears, into numbness.

Physiologists diagnose it as disheartened.

The mask returned, but it was too late. She had seen him, and he knew it.

His hand struck out, and encased her wrist. Not so mildly, he yanked her behind him toward the cabin's door. She didn't bother fighting him. She scrambled ungracefully out of the cabin, hesitating only to listen for a moment.

There was a faint clatter of shattering glass, but there was no time to wonder what had broken.

They continued on.

She raced in time with him, plunging into the shadowy halls. When had she given up? Was it before or after they had danced? She couldn't recall. A part of her wished she could tell herself it was a dream. Gavin's expression was freshly seared into her mind, burning away all hope of unreality.

Down, down, down they went. The lower, the hotter it became. Minutes later she was drenched in sweat.

All the while they did not dare look at each other. From the corner of her eye, Kendra perceived Gavin sporadically hesitating, tensed, as if he'd heard a something that disturbed him.

When they stopped, her heart was racing from the exertion. She quietly gasped for breath, unable to find any air to replenish with, refraining only barely from collapsing on the rocky slate under her feet. The oxygen was thin inside the entrails of the earth.

"Ah! So you've brought her then?" A voice boomed ominously from all directions.

Kendra looked around. Barely enough light for even her magically enhanced vision, came up from the bottom of what appeared to be an underground river. That was what was causing her discomfort. The humidity from the river was unbearable.

It was then that Kendra noticed the noise. The hissing, gargling sounds of the river. The dripping of water off of the stalactites. The hum of the pressure of the hot springs against the rocks. It sounded like a factory.

Gavin didn't answer. He dropped his hand and stepped away from Kendra, his upper lip curling disdainfully.

"Kendra! Over here." The voice lowered, sounding nearer and more centralized. "Behind you."

Kendra whirled around.

A few yards away, perched on the stairs, half covered in shadow, he stood. He had a long, black beard that curled just above the floor. Atop his head, he had a messy tangle of iron colored hair, streaked with thin tendrils of copper. His face, what face could made out under the oily beard, was whiter than death. It held an ageless quality, which was not youthful. He was drawn up to a full, tall height, hands clasped behind a dingy black robe. His robes were an oriental fashion, hanging off of him in some ways and being stretched by his body in others, adorned with wisps of satiny, steel gray.

He took one calculated step in advancement.

Kendra understood his point. She grimaced. His posture somehow simultaneously conveyed a heathen savagery and fierce regality in that one single shift.

His eyes met hers.

Every nerve on her body stood on end. His eyes were wide open, unblinking, metallic. They were equally mesmerizing and nauseating. They made her feel as though a war raged within herself, a rebellion of her insides, a chaotic upheaval of her spirit. Everything about this man was a contradiction. This was personified in the look he gave her. The eyes didn't see through her. They tore through her.

"I've quite forgotten which introductions are proper. I have so many names – Father of all Hatchlings they've called me, I've been told some call me First King now, others, Master…"

Here his gaze flickered to where Gavin stood.

"But you," his gaze returning to her, he smiled broadly, from ear to ear, in a way that was painful to look at, "may call me by my name. How do you like that?" He chuckled "I haven't heard my own name in years – but I said to myself when I saw you, I should like to hear you call me by it. An indulgence." Again his eyes flicked to Gavin.

Kendra got the impression that his Master was baiting Gavin. He appeared to be trying to make him jealous. Of what? Why be so senselessly cruel? Kendra had the sudden urge to run up and slap his sallow face.

"You wouldn't deny an old man an indulgence, would you, Kendra Sorenson?" His voice was light and harsh simultaneously. His eyes widened, almost hopefully, daring her to refuse him.

Kendra refused to speak. Besides, she wasn't sure she could remember what words to say if she did. He may have been a wizard, but he definitely retained the potent air of dragon fear.

"No? I should hope not. My name child, is Anata Boga, Lord of Chaos." The First King stretched out his arms.

There was a drawn out silence. Anata Boga huffed, looking at Kendra frustratedly. "There was a time when that name would have struck fear into the most courageous heart."

"Times change." Kendra squeaked out, surprising them both.

"T-I-M-E. Time is a constant inconsistency." He had the tone of a child reciting a playground rhyme. He chuckled. "Mhmuh." He answered her look. "Let's begin shall we? Neak," An ugly yellow man plopped into existence.

He has sly look about him, Kendra thought. She instantly knew she'd have to be on her guard against him. However, he seemed unconcerned with her. His eyes were trained on Gavin. "Bind them. Navarog?" Anata Boga inclined his head.

Gavin turned toward Kendra, eyes fixed above her head. He gruffly grabbed Kendra by her waist and smashed their bodies together. A small yelp escaped the prisoner. She looked up at her captor forlornly, but he refused to meet her eyes.

The yellow man, Neak, procured a cast iron chain link. Face contorted with glee, Neak strode over to them and began to wrap them together. He circled them like a vulture, pulling the chain tighter with each layer. Kendra pulled away from Gavin as much as possible, emphasizing that this was as uncomfortable for her as it was for him.

"Is the chain necessary?" She asked quietly.

"Is breathing necessary?" came the cold retort.

If she could have hit him should would have.

"It's quite necessary." Anata Boga startled Kendra. He was too close for comfort, leering over them as Neak tied the chain in a knot. "The pain you are about to experience will be excruciatingly exquisite. We can't have you running away."

"Not that Navarog would let you. He needs you, though he'd be loathe to admit it. I'm sure he told you, or at least hinted as to why you are here?"

Kendra glanced over at the First King. He nodded as if she'd confirmed it. "I brought him back you see. I created the spell that drew him back into life. There are certain rules about this sort of thing, and I found every loophole in their system and ab-used it." He chortled hollowly. "They are still unhappy about that."

Kendra looked back to Gavin. Who is they?, she wanted to ask him. Not for the first time, Kendra wondered what dark ritual had brought Gavin back and what consequences there were because of the nature of going _against_ nature.

"There is a clause that I could not get around." His voice took on a different tone. Perhaps, more cautious? "Navarog needs a tether linking him from floating off into the abyss again. For a limited window of time, I could keep him here without this tether. Now you must combine wills with him."

Where was this going?

"Via this spell." A gnarled hand pressed between the two bodies. Kendra wanted to cry out as he sharply positioned a piece of paper between them. Being bound prevented Kendra from being able to read, but she could tell that the paper was filled, corner to corner with hurried handwriting. "A portion of each of your spirits will be combined, creating an unbreakable bond between you two."

"Do you understand me Kendra Sorenson? From henceforth, you will not have the luxury of being able to forget the monster you have ample reason to hate."

The hand tore at her chest. Kendra suppressed a scream. She could feel the blood trickling down in fat drops. The fabric of her dress exposed a portion of her chest. Gavin grunted as the same was done to him.

When Anata Boga spoke again it was in quieter tone.

"You will always be drawn to each other - it's possible that extended time apart may even cause you physical pain. You will be stronger together. A more powerful duo will never have existed. The Queen's handmaiden and the King's consort, Fairy-kind, Demon Prince, all rolled into one. Your life will be his life, and consequently his death, will be your death."

Kendra let it sink in. God, was it even possible?

"Kendra, Kendra! You were my missing piece, Kendra. Because of you, not only I have been able to prevent the re-creation of the Eternals - not that I want those nasty demon royalty competing with me for control - but I will be now able to destroy the Knights. I have absolute control over the Society. Directly because of me, indirectly because of you, this will be the Evening Star's final revolution. A rebellion to end all others, for I hold all the cards." He glowed with pride.

"What are the cards? I'll tell you. One is obvious - I have my most capable and trustworthy servant back at my disposal. The other may be a little more conceptual, so I will enlighten you. I will have a two-way ticket into the Fairy Queen's Realm."

Kendra blanched. Her status as a member of the Fairy Kingdom - if Gavin could come and go as he pleased...

"The Fairy Queen would destroy us both at the expense of keeping her realm untainted." Gavin stated simply.

The First King inclined his head back and forth. "It's a gamble, but I think from what you've told me The Queen and her son will do all they can to prevent having to eradicate their favorite heroine. Because of this we will find an opportunity, a weakness, we will exploit it and will we be their ruin. I am confident in your ability to manipulate the situation to our advantage, Navarog."

This was not happening. She squinted her eyes shut, willing the situation to be unreal. Kendra's heart beat pounded nosily in her ears.

"Oh," Kendra flinched as scorching hot breath lapsed onto the sensitive skin of her neck beneath her ear. "And if you're not despairing enough yet, consider that all magic comes from the spirit. I cannot say what his mangled spirit will do to yours - who can know?"

"I will tell you a secret." He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "I plan on relocating. The coming of another age deserves to be marked by a change of scene. I was thinking of the place they call America. He tells me that Connecticut is lovely this time of year."

With a sinister chuckle, she felt him move away.

A gargled chant began to reverberate all around. Kendra had just made up her mind to plead with Gavin when a sudden violent pain seared through her chest. A bright, white light flared up.

She heard a cry, though she was uncertain if it was from herself or Gavin. The pain! Oh God, the pain! She was burning! They had lit fire to her. Kendra would have fallen to the ground consumed by agony, if Gavin had not stood so still, bearing the torture with a seasoned soldier's resolve.

_Stop!_ The word was on her tongue, but had not escaped her lips. It rang out like wail of an alarm in her mind.

The chanting finished. Slowly the pain began to subside. Kendra felt herself returning. She swooned, feeling quite dazed.

How, she did not know, but she fell to the ground with a gasp, catching herself before smashing her head against a sharp edge. All she could hear was the rapid blood rush. She turned her head to one side. The paper had fluttered to the ground near her. There were no words left on it.

With a silent desperate prayer, Kendra inclined her head to see her chest, ignoring the excruciating pain that jolted through her body with the slightest movement. Despair took her as she saw the words tattooed in black ink on her skin.

The deed was done. It had happened so quickly. Kendra and the rest of the world had lost. The Father of All Hatchlings, Anata Boga, had won. She cursed herself for not having done more to stop it.

Kendra wanted to cry, but she was afraid it would hurt too much.

_Wait_…

Was that Imaginary Seth's voice? It sounded so near and so real.

Something was not right.

Well, there were a lot of things _not right_ at that moment, but something was... off.

She listened.

Nothing.

Where was the gloating Anata Boga? Where was the fizzing of the river. Why was it all of a sudden so silent?

Kendra's ears popped with a faint hiss. It rushed upon her. She heard it loud and clear.

The cacophony of calamity filled her ears.


End file.
